#i think she just saw sprig as the only person she could trust at that moment

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

@tharrb VERY INTERESTING analysis my friend! But I like to give Sprig and his friendship with Anne a bit more credit here.

I love Sprig and his love for Anne is so deep and genuine and beautiful. The juxtaposition between Sprig and Marcy + Sasha in Anne's life is super interesting - you have the toxic friendships from her past leading her into a false sense of safety and betraying her and breaking her heart over and over again while Sprig and Polly were the only people in Amphibia that never lied to her. They never betrayed her. Anne chose the Plantars twice over her friends - when she fought Sasha in Reunion and when she left Marcy behind in Newtopia to return to Wartwood. Anne's decisions in both scenarios are very different - Sprig encouraged her growth and healing, helping her to stand up for herself against Sasha, who was, you know, trying to kill him and his family, while he had nothing against Marcy at the moment, but I feel like Anne choosing him over Marcy was related to her choosing him over Sasha beforehand. She made new friends. She feels safer and more comfortable with them than she ever felt with Sasha and Marcy, despite her love for them. Sasha and Marcy were her friends. The Plantars were her family, and, other than her parents, they were the most healthy bond she had in her life.

And the tragedy is that, despite everything they did, Sasha and Marcy adored Anne. They were willing to go to such immoral extremes for her. Both almost died for her. Both almost killed for her. They lied to her and hurt her and beyrayed her and they loved her so much, it destroyed them when she chose the Plantars, specifically Sprig, over them. And despite that they still loved her and loved her and loved her.

So yeah while Sprig can be an immature and irresponsible little shit, he never went behind Anne's back in any serious way. He never betrayed her. He never did anything that would go against her wellbeing. He was the healthiest and safest bond Anne had in Amphibia and he opened her eyes so drastically that she just couldn't see her friends the same way after meeting him and learning what healthy relationships actually look like.

If Sprig's flaws were as emphasized or as serious as Sasha and Marcy's, we wouldn't have this contrast that's at the center of Anne's arc. Otherwise it would look like she chose Sprig, a friend just as problematic as Sasha and Marcy, completely arbitrariely.

Marcy "MY girl Anne, my BEST FRIEND" Wu × Anne "Sprig is my best friend in this world and the next" Boonchuy

[in-the-shadow-of-the-blog]

Under the Mistletoe with Aesop Sharp

Summary: Mistletoe above the potions master's classroom door?? (Aesop Sharp x unnamed/unspecified female character)

Rating: PG

Words: 700

A/N: I tried to be extra vague with this one, to make it easier to imagine your student/faculty/whomever OC. Hopefully it doesn't detract overall. Only had a light proofread so I apologize for any errors!

--

No one knew who put it there, though Garreth was the prime suspect among students. What surprised everyone the most was that Professor Sharp hadn’t removed it. A little sprig of green leaves and white berries remained fixed above the classroom doorway, the potions master striding underneath it without a glance.

"Do you think he hasn't noticed?"

"The man notices everything!"

"Why hasn't he gotten rid of it, then?"

The whispering students fell silent, looking up sheepishly to see the man in question glaring down at them.

"This rousing conversation is about your assignment, I trust?"

"Yes, Professor Sharp."

"Good."

Aesop spared them another suspicious glance before moving on to the next table.

When class had ended and the room emptied, she walked in. The very person he had been wanting to see.

"Professor Sharp?" She called out, drawing his attention from the papers on his desk.

He looked up, unable to keep the smile from his lips. The smile he wore every time he saw her face. "How may I assist you?"

"I don't suppose you have any extra dittany on hand? I've somehow let myself run out."

Aesop braced his hands on the arms of his chair as he stood. "Let me look."

She waited patiently, examining the jars and chalkboards around the classroom. Knowing Aesop hated it when someone hovered over his shoulder, she stayed back.

"Sorry, looks like I'm out as well," Aesop said behind her.

She turned in surprise, having not heard his approach. Aesop was so close, she could make out every detail of his face, the scar across his cheek, the cunning twinkle in his eye. Close enough to feel his warmth against her front.

A nervous swallow bought her just enough time to find her words. "No bother. I'll check the greenhouses."

Clearing her throat, she turned to leave the classroom, feeing Aesop's gaze on her back.

"Wait just a moment," Aesop called out.

She stopped, one foot through the doorway, and turned to look at him. Aesop approached her, a very subtle smirk forming on his lips.

"Found some." Aesop came to a stop in front of her, holding out a vial.

Her fingers close around the glass, brushing against Aesop’s palm as she takes the vial. Their eyes locked, the quiet intensity of the moment reflected in their faces. Neither of them moved, hands still indulging in the lingering touch.

Then Aesop's other hand was on her waist, pulling her close, gazing deep into her eyes. “Seems I’ve caught you under the mistletoe. We can’t break tradition, can we?”

Lips parting instinctively at his words, she glanced up at the innocuous sprig of green and white above his door, the one that had become the subject of so much gossip among the students. Good thing none of them were around to see this.

"No, we can't," she whispered back, leaning into him just enough for him to get the message of her consent.

Aesop leaned forward, lips capturing hers in a kiss that was sweet and passionate all at once. His hand cradled the back of her neck while her fingers threaded through his hair. She would happily remain like this for an eternity, letting the world slip away around them. The way Aesop's hand tugged at her hips told her he felt the same way.

A lack of air finally forced them apart, breathing heavily as Aesop pressed his forehead to hers. He had no intention of letting her go just yet. There were ten minutes before his next class, and he would not waste a single second. Not that she was trying to get away, mind.

"Were you the one who put it up there all along?" She finally asked.

Aesop shook his head. "You know me. I was hardly going to waste the opportunity."

Aesop lifted his wand, pointing it at the mistletoe above the door. Before he could cast a spell, she laid her hand on his arm, lowering it back to his side.

"Leave it," she urged. "Wouldn't it be suspicious to take it down now?"

He considered her words and nodded. "I suppose you're right. But then, cleverness is one trait I admire most in you."

While Aesop pocketed his wand, she pulled him into another kiss, stealing as much time as she could before students began wandering by. It seemed Aesop didn't suspect her ulterior motive for asking him to keep the mistletoe in place.

She was already scheming of what other potion ingredients she could run out of next.

--

Masterlist

[pyroclastic727]

Color Symbolism and Marcy’s Final Emotional Arc

Sashanne is yellow.

No, look at it! Even though there’s a lot of green and red--we’ve seen that in Reunion--overall, most Sashanne interactions have a yellow wash over them. I think maybe the only exception to that is when they’re on earth, and they’ve got that somber green-blue color.

Now look at this. Marcanne is cyan. Look at how different Anne’s hair color is in each! Cyan makes red look more red, and yellow makes red look less.

Even Sasharcy has its own color, though I can’t say I have much proof of that, because. You know. When have they ever interacted. But it’s magenta, meaning that each pairing of the trio follows the subtractive color model. To simplify that: it’s like the primary colors of printing.

Anyone familiar with the show knows that color has a strong place in Amphibia’s symbolism. Each girl has their own calamity theme color, being green, cyan, and pink. They also have their own outfit colors that they gravitate to; for further analysis of that, I’d direct you to this post and its replies.

As for their relationship colors? They’re not just confined to those relationship scenes. Remember Anne’s favorite color, in her childhood? 

Before coming to Amphibia, Anne saw Sasha as first, and Marcy as second. She had a tendency to follow Sasha’s commands, even when she really didn’t want to. This subservience could be a subtle preference; maybe not of personality, but of attention. Anne was much more likely to follow Sasha than to follow Marcy. 

Even after landing in Amphibia, Anne had one yellow shoe on, one off. Besides being a hallmark of her design, isn’t it funny that she had lost part of the yellow from her wardrobe, at about the time that she stopped letting Sasha push her around?

In Season 2, it’s really obvious what Anne’s color is.

Cyan, to Anne, is the color of her heart. It’s all of her emotions, spilling out of her, fueling her. It’s a color given to her by Amphibia, by the music box, by the gift that Marcy researched, that Sasha suggested, that Anne stole. 

It’s a color she received from Marcy: the joy of being loved, the safety of having a companion by her side, the overwhelming, paralyzing pain of losing her. It’s the color of her heart, the color of her feelings. 

And yet, the yellow is still there. A yellow jacket that she put on when she got home. A yellow shoe, as the other keeps falling off. And now that she’s in Amphibia, we haven’t seen the cyan, not yet.

Why does this matter? Well, let me show you where else we’ve seen the Sashanne color scheme.

That’s right. Marcy’s nightmare. The sky in this scene is the sky of the polluted Amphibia, something Marcy wouldn’t have seen in the pickle jar. No, the reason why she sees this sky is because it’s yellow, it’s Sashanne-colored. A perfect place for the Sashanne monster to form a heart-shape with their torso and declare that Marcy is unforgiveable.

And what’s that in the background? Right, the famous balloons. Yellow and cyan, two colors that seem inconspicuous until you realize what they mean, where they’ve been, what they symbolize. The lockers behind Marcy are that green-blue that you see in the Reunion flashbacks. They’re the color of fear, and when you see what she’s afraid of, it’s that yellow sky and the idea of Sashanne having a better life without her.

And isn’t ironic? They are having a better life without her.

The parallels are obvious already, and as of writing this I’ve only seen Commander Anne. Swinging across a gap with a grappling hook. Saving Sprig from the stomach of a bug. Running into her arms to tightly hug her on the right side of the screen, then pull away with a crooked smile. Holding her by the shoulders, asking to not lose her, then watching her smile and ask for a bit of trust. It’s like Sasha is the better version of Marcy, doing the same thing that she and Anne used to do, but without the one mistake looming over her.

Where does that leave Marcy? Marcy, the person who brought her friends to another world so that she wouldn’t lose them? Marcy, who looked into the fear machine and saw her two best friends, swearing that they wouldn’t forgive her?

Sasha’s jealousy came from the idea that Anne and Marcy shouldn’t be getting by without her. Marcy’s envy comes from fear, the idea that Anne and Sasha seem to be much better off without her. 

Hell, she’s connected to a hivemind. What’s to say that she doesn’t see the parallels already? If she doesn’t see it now, then she will eventually, and relatively soon.

Isn’t that so horrible? That Marcy could watch herself be so easily replaced? That she could so easily come to believe that wanting Anne and Sasha is a mistake?

That’s where Marcy’s final battle comes in. @the-chaotic-lesbian​ pointed out to me that it’d be easy for the Core to use these fears against Marcy, to tell her that her friends don’t want her there, that she should give in. 

The thing is, that’s been Marcy’s pattern, this whole show. Backing away, letting her fear keep her on the sidelines. In Day at the Aquarium, she lets Anne go back to Wartwood. In New Wartwood, she accepts that the town won’t like her that easily. At the beginning of the series, she sends her friends to Amphibia, rather than ask them to choose her. (evidence courtesy of @starfoe​ ). She has a lot to be afraid of, a lot to run from, a lot to face.

But when she’s up against the Core? That’s something that’s willing to use her fears against her. Something that’s willing to pin her against her greatest fear: are Anne and Sasha better off without her, or does she deserve to take up space in their hearts? Does she deserve to be loved, to be liked, to stand next to them and assert that they won’t leave her, she won’t let them go that easily?

How perfect would it be? For the girl ruled with fear, the girl who brought about her own end...to decide, to fight for the fact that she deserves to be forgiven, to be loved?

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I‘m  Always Curious Part Thirty Six

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕 ALSO @captain-andorable drew AMAZING fanart of Chapters 35 and 18, big thank you to them!! They’re amazing, y’all, go check them out!!!

Warnings: Cursing, a lil fluff, a lil angst. Y’all know me. (Still 😅) Summary: The briefing the Pike had given around the Hutton had made three facts incredibly clear: 1. The crew of the Hutton was terrified— for what reasons, we had yet to ascertain. 2. The landing party would be minimal— Pike, Una, Spock, Thira, Watson, and myself. 3. He did not want me going with them.

“Hey Pal, we’re heading over to pick up the S.S. Hutton. We got these files, but I’m not recognizing the language. The root looks Andorii. Feel like taking a crack at ‘em?” I asked, leaning over the seat of my old station.

“For sure, send ‘em over!” Paledore grinned, “We’re warping there now?” I nodded, “They’re dead in the water, transmissions are coming in static-y as all hell, and half of the crew is stranded down on Catalpa.” Paledore cringed. “I know,” I nodded, “I’m beaming down with the away team once we drop out of warp, I’ll have my communicator with me. Patch through with anything you work out.” “Will do!” I gave him a quick nod of thanks before heading for the turbolift. We had about an hour until we arrived at Catalpa. -- The briefing the Pike had given around the Hutton had made three facts incredibly clear: 1. The crew of the Hutton was terrified— for what reasons, we had yet to ascertain. 

2. The landing party would be minimal— Pike, Una, Spock, Thira, Watson, and myself: people that the Captain knew could quickly size up situations, cover our bases, follow orders when needed (but that were capable of going against Pike’s orders if we knew that it would be conducive to the safest outcome for the missions— something that Pike himself would do.)  3. He did not want me going with them. Only the primary points of the first two facts had been stated. We all knew Pike trusted us as his crew— he knew our strengths and weaknesses; he knew that we were willing to weigh the risks and put ahead the needs of the many for the needs of the few, or the one, in the case of risky away missions. The look that Pike had cast me as he’d dismissed us had told me all that I’d needed to know about his feelings regarding my beaming down with them. In my past few months on the Enterprise, Christopher had kept the kid gloves off, even going so far as sending me on away missions where he was not present. But when he’d nod me on my way, there was always a  ittle twist to his mouth, a little furrow to his brow. But he was being good. We were being good. We were still sparring– on a far more regular basis than we had been in my previous stint on the Enterprise. We shared the odd meal together— typically with at least Una or Spock present; it was rare that it was just the two of us. When it was, though, I had to stop myself from letting my looks linger, or from allowing myself to think too long about the feeling of his ankle or calf brushing against mine under the table. I didn’t let my eyes settle on the secretive, sweet little smiles that he would cast me before taking a drink from his glass, or the odd blink-and-I’d-miss-it wink. The minor proximity was enough to turn my insides to goo. It was embarrassing— and I was sure that he knew what effect he was having. Neither of us had taken any other steps toward fully rekindling the relationship we’d had before, but we were spending more time in each other's company than we had even when we’d briefly been together. His evening-ending murmurs of sweetheart hadn’t stopped, either. I didn’t want them going anywhere. But that concerned, displeased little look had been on Christopher’s face as I’d left the ready room to inform Paledore of our most recent assignment. 

-- 

“Dooooor,” I dragged out, voice hardly above a mumble as I rifled through the box from the storage unit that they’d kept my things in while I’d been away from the Enterprise. “Do I even want to know what you’re looking for?” I smiled at Una’s question, hardly looking away from my task. “I … Had this one notebook from the Academy, with translations and um— fuck,” I muttered, pulling a couple of other notebooks out and dropping them onto my desk, even as Una walked over to me, folding her arms over her chest, “It was from my Esoteric Excavated Xenolinguisitic elective— some of the uh… Some of the runes that were transmitted from the Hutton look so familiar, but I can’t—” “You do know that if you just put all of these notes on a PADD like a normal person, you wouldn’t be giving yourself a thousand-and-one paper cuts for the sake of a hunch? There’s a reason that this is no longer the prevailing method of note-taking and note-keeping.” I could hear Una’s condemning furrowed brow. “I do know that, thank you, mother,” I grumbled, straightening up and planting my hands on my hips as I looked over strewn stacks of notebooks on the desk, and the upturned stack that remained in the box. There were a few other items still inside as well— a sprig of Vulcan mint in a sealed box that Spock had brought back for me from Koutov’s conservatory, some Larilian coins from my first stint on the planet, a wilted flower that I’d picked from a patch of wildflowers back in Sandblossom. “... Why haven't you unpacked this stuff?” Una frowned, leaning against the desk. I considered it for a moment as I sat down in my desk chair, waving my hand in permission as she cast me a questioning glance before she reached into poke through the contents. “I don’t know. When I got back aboard, when… When I got into this room, and saw my stuff— Some of my stuff,” I shook my head, “It was like… It was like I was looking through someone else’s things. I’m not who I was the last time I was here. And that’s not a bad thing, it’s just… There’s a lot of history in there, a lot of good stuff.” “...And you feel that removing it from the box now will change its meaning?” I didn’t meet Una’s gaze, just eyed where she held the small container of Vulcan mint. “Something like that. Stupid, huh?” “Not the word I’d use.” “But the sentiment is on the right track?” Una made a thoughtful little noise in the back of her throat as she lowered the mint back into the box. “You are changed,” She agreed, “To disregard what has happened to you in your time away from the ship would be a disservice to what you’ve gone through. But consider,” She turned to face me again, crossing her arms, “The things that made those memories good then, who made them good, are still a part of you.” My stomach twisted, and I lowered my eyes. Thoughts of Sandblossom and Una’s profile under the low brim of a stetson, Spock’s arched little brow as he passed me the sprig after the incident on Koutov, the memory of being in Christopher’s arms, his generous smiles and warm gazes on Sepheron were things that had all kept me going on Somonia, and during the war. “I suppose,” I conceded quietly. “...And I do still see glimmers of who you were in the time before Somonia, and the war, sometimes,” Una tacked on softly. I glanced up at her curiously, and I found her smiling. She added, “There’s a lightness to you, an excitement— particularly when we’re hailed by a ship that speaks an obscure language, or you’re able to beam down and interact with a civilization that speaks something other than Basic or Klingon.” “Well. It’s what I was trained to do,” I sniffed. “Dork.” Una straightened up. “Tell you something else,” She added as she walked away, “I see it when you’re with him, too.” She didn’t need to clarify— the look that she threw me over her shoulder told me everything that I needed to know. “We drop out of warp in twenty minutes,” She warned before leaving my room, the door sliding shut behind her. Tag list: @angels-pie ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta  ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles ; @inmyowncorner  ; @tardis-23  ; @paintballkid711 ; @katrynec ; @hypnobananaangelfish ; @elen-aranel ; @blueeyesatnight ; @hotchswifey ; @carbonated-beverage​

[fan-art-ic]

Don't Stop Here

She's back. Anne is really back on Earth. She can hardly believe it.

(Picks up immediately after the episode ends) (ao3 link in reblog)

Anne can hardly believe it. Cars honked around her and every breath is heavy with unnatural smog. She meets eyes with a human stranger, who lifts a phone very quickly and stares bug-eyed at her. Not at her, no, at her family. She turns to Hop-pop, Sprig, and Polly, all scratched, bruised, tired, afraid, and looking at her with trust in their eyes. Hop-pop croaks and coughs and Anne notices her frog family's skin is graying. She has to get them out of here. Off the hood of the car, over five lanes of traffic, hopped over the guardrail, down the hill, through a sparse copse of trees, to the sidewalk under the bridge and-

"Anne?" A pink hand tugs on her wrist. "Anne, stop. Please." Her feet stumble to a stop and her socked foot lands on something sharp and cutting and she gasps.

"Anne!"

Two sets of hands catch her torso, and she faintly feels a wet touch pulling at her ankle. Her family carefully let her down, so she lands heavily on her butt instead of her nose. Anne's next breath is a punch of air and her lungs brighten with pain as she loses control of her inhales and exhales. Her eyes hurt and burn. When she wipes a dirty hand across her face, she winces as hot tears and snot sting her injuries. A light weight settles onto her back and rubs in a circular motion. Anne clings to the sensation. Between sputtering breaths, she begins to hear. "-in...and out...in...and out," Hop-pop's soothing, raspy voice repeats and then she can hear Sprig humming. It's a song Wally wrote about a silly snail getting lost and he had sung it at her Frog of the Year party. A laugh bubbles up into a sob and Anne reaches out her arms to pull all three of them close.

"I love you guys," she chokes out, and Polly pats her cheek.

"We love you too, Anne," says the polliwog, normally so energetic now wrung out and too bright-eyed. She needs to pull herself together. Anne releases her grip and her family takes a step back. She runs her hands through her hair and shakes her head, dust and dirt and surprisingly long twigs falling to the broken concrete.

"Alright, froggy fam," she begins, "I'm going to take you to meet my human fam." Sprig whoops, but he's clearly flagging.

"Yay!..."

Anne grimaces and looks at Hop-pop. The old, orange frog meets her gaze steadily, but she can tell how much he is missing his cane. "Hop-pop, you got Polly, I got Sprig?" He nods. "Alright. Let's make our way to the highway, follow along till we hit an exit, follow that till we hit town, figure out where we are, call my parents. Sound good?" No one protests and Anne helps Sprig up to her shoulder as Hop-pop collects Polly.

.

They're maybe ten minutes into their walk, and every step is a jolt to her nervous system. Her skin feels prickly, her jaw too tight, her muscles ache like never before. The pressure of her Newtopian breastplate, once reassuring, weighs her every step like a lodestone.  The heron-leather straps pinch at the underside of her arms. Sprig's cool, damp skin is refreshing against the back of her neck, but it's not slimy enough and it concerns Anne. She bites her lip and tries to time her steps so that her sneaker hits the rocks and roots, while her socked-foot hits bare earth. She isn't always successful, and everything is starting to throb. Her temples pulse loudly in her head and her knees are weak and her mouth is parched.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Polly..." Hop-pop murmurs behind her. She can't see him, but she hears the dragging footsteps crunch the dry grass and the low comfortings of the grandfather to the polliwog. A stabbing pain shoots through her chest, and Anne forces her legs into a march. Focuses on the act of raising her thigh, swinging her calf forward, shifting her weight, repeat ad infinitum.

In seventh grade health class, there had been only one day dedicated to 'mental health issues' and something mentioned was meditative breathing. In multiple P.E. classes, Anne heard the teachers talk about making sure to breath while exercising. One, two, three. In. One, two, three. Out. Anne can do this.

.

The clouds parted a bit as they walked and the sun is nearly blinding Anne, as she squints at the sign. DALY STREET EXIT, it read in giant white text on green. Okay, so now they can get out of the weird in-between highway area they've been hiking. She points at it. "This way."

Something is mumbled behind her back.

"Huh?" She stops to turn and looks at Hop-pop. "What's up?" The elderly frog's face is twisted in a very non-confidence inspiring way.

"Well...Anne, I can't help but notice you don't have your backpack. Or...or your phone. So-" All Anne could hear was a piercing, ringing sound. Her hands clenched and unclenched.

"Right," says Anne, interrupting whatever the old frog had been saying. "Right. I don't have my backpack or phone." She blinks rapidly and Hop-pop's brow furrows deeper grooves. Her fingernails dig grooves of equal depth into her palms. "Okay, so," she claps her hands and ignores Sprig and Polly startle, "we will keep going. We will find someone kind and nice who will be willing to call my parents. End of plan."

"Great plan," Sprig yawns in her ear, and she can't help the yawn in return. It stretches her neck muscles and she yawns again for good measure. Polly yawns, then Hop-pop, then her and Polly at the same time. They all smile and the moment of brevity gets the family going again, the plan -no matter how little Anne believes in it herself- solidly in mind and the goal spurring them on. Not too much further now.

.

The sign for 7-11 flickers and there is a closed down Redbox sitting stoutly next to a ash-tray/trash can. The ad in the window advertises Berry Glam Blitz Bomb and a two for four hotdogs sale. Her stomach rumbles.

Her family is crowded together outside the storefront, and Anne doesn't know what to do. She's loathe to leave the Plantars by themselves, but maybe the cashier won't be the most cynical soul in Los Angeles. Then the frogs won't go under the risk of wandering the streets, talking to strangers. She can't bring them in though, what if the employee freaks out (like...any reasonable person confronted by talking frog people would). A clammy, orange hand taps her arm twice. She looks down.

"We'll be okay for five minutes, Anne," reassures Hop-pop. "Hand me Sprig." She doesn't hand him Sprig so much as the pink frog melts off her back and flops down next to his grandfather, but either way transfer successful. Okay now it's just time to interact with a human who isn't one of her two childhood best friends. She can't be totally out of practice right?

Marcy's eyes had been so wide when she died. Her pretty, dark brown eyes glittering from the light of Andrias' sword. From the flashing blue of the portal home. From tears.

Anne swallows roughly and steps toward the entrance. She scolds herself when the self-automated doors startle her, and she glances around the store. Someone tall and bald by the coolers, someone on the phone in the back, besides them and Anne the place is empty. Well, and the cashier. She approaches the register before she can one-eighty out the stupid doors, and she clears her throat. The cashier, a young guy with bright green and black hair and a name tag reading 'Jared', looks up from his phone.

"Hey-o, ready to check out?"

"Um, no actually," Anne starts and stops. What is she supposed to say? "I...dropped my phone and it cracked badly," she lies. "I was supposed to meet up with my mom but I can't get the dang thing to turn on." She laughs, short and high-pitched, rubbing her neck. "Is there like, a store phone I could borrow to call her?"

Jared raises his eyebrows. "No, there isn't a store phone. If you buy something I could exchange dollars for quarters, I think there's a phone booth near here." The lights are buzzing really loudly, Anne notices. She takes a deep breath.

"Sorry, that doesn't work. Could I borrow your phone?" She sees how the older guy assesses her. She sees her dirty torn school skirt, her scorched copper armor, the twigs that she can't stop finding in her hair. "Or could I give you her number? Please, I just want to get back to my mom." Jared's frown softens and his mouth opens to speak, but is cut off by a voice behind Anne.

"Annie Bone-choy?" Her neck complains at the speed she turns to look. The bald person she saw earlier. Face contorted in open surprise, finger pointed in her direction, he says in a nasally SoCal accent, "Your parents have been looking everywhere for you."

"Do I know you?" Anne asks. Bald guy shakes his head. "No. I like your parents restaurant, amazing noodles by the way, and they have your missing posters all over the front. Yours and two other girls."

"I thought you lost your phone and were meeting up with your mom," Jared unhelpful interjects. Anne looks between both of them.

"Can I please use someone's phone to call my mom?" The two adults look at each other.

"Tell me your mom's number," says Jared tentatively. Anne rattles off the ten digit code with ease. She remembers sitting in the kitchen and her mom helping her arrange plastic magnet numbers in the order of her cell phone number. Jared puts the phone on speaker and the dialing tone begins to ring. Once, twice, three times, four...

"Hi! This is Madee Boonchuy. Not here right now, please leave a message!" The messaging system beeps and Anne just shakes her head at Jared. He ends the call.

"Can you please try again?" She pleads. Jared frowns, but does as requested. The dialing rings again. And gets voice-mail, again.

"I could call the restaurant," the bald guy offers. "It's not exactly rush hour but they are open right now, right?" Anne blinks away the stinging in her eyes. She has no idea what time it is, no idea what day or month or even if it's the same year. Who knows how Amphibia time lines up with Earth time?

"Can you? Please?" He nods and pulls out his phone. A minute while he finds the contact, and now for the third time, the phone rings on speaker. Anne knows what they say about third tries, and she crosses her fingers tightly.

"Hello? Delivery or pick-up?" Familiar, accented English, and Anne has to resist falling to the floor.

"Mom," Anne whispers in Thai, and the voice on the line speaks rapidly.

"Anne? Sweetheart? Oh my god, Anne? Anne?"

"It's me Mom. It's Anne," Anne sniffs and hiccups.

Some sharp, unintelligible yelling comes out the receiver, and there is a rustling and slamming sound before Anne's mom replies, "Where are you?"

Anne blue screens for a second. "I'm..." She struggles to remember. "I'm at a 7-11."

"What? Where? What street?"

"Daly Street," Jared pipes up.

"Who is that?" Her mother says sharply.

"That's just the cashier, he was, he was helping me. Well and another guy who comes to the restaurant apparently? I uh, he says he recognized me from my posters, huh, I didn't realize I'd have any," Anne rambles.

"I'm coming to you, Anne," Her mom promises. "I'm going to hug you so much. I'm coming to you. I have to hang up now, to get in the car, but do not go. Please."

"I promise," says Anne, and when her mom ends the call, she starts crying.

.

She exits the 7-11 once she gets the bald guy and Jared to distract each other (i.e. purchasing a bottled soda), and she spots the Plantars immediately. They're on top of a parked USPS truck. When Anne peers around the vehicle to see the other side of the street, she spies the mailman making his way towards the truck. Crap.

"Guys!" She hisses through clenched teeth. She raps her knuckles against the truck's side and hear Polly yelp. "Guys, get off the truck!" A moment later, Hop-pop and Sprig land beside her, Polly in her brother's arms. Anne pulls them over to the Redbox and huddles on the side opposite to the store entrance. She steps in front of them, hoping her body will shield enough of the frogs so nobody looks closer.

"Your mom is gonna be here soon?" Sprig asks. Anne nods.

"Yep, she'll...she'll be here soon." There's no response, and there is a take-a-tab paper taped to the trash can advertising singing lessons, and it's all Anne can do to not remember the time Sasha threw a karaoke party and they all started singing badly and together, and Anne blinks and keeps talking.

"My mom will come, and she's probably in her mini-van, oh man she's gonna tear through like twenty stop signs and scare other drivers so bad," she snorts, "and maybe there'll be a loose water bottle or a chip bag in the car, and oh man, you guys don't know what sour cream and onion chips are I can't wait to show you-"

"Anne," Hop-pop cuts her off. "Don't forget to breathe." She sucks in a deep breath and feels bile creeping up her throat. She tries to swallow but her mouth is so dry it just hurts. She can't imagine how her frog family's is feeling compared to her, they must be feeling so much worse than her, and they haven't said anything yet. Anne exhales forcefully. When a hand squeezes around her own, she squeezes back reassuringly.

They all jump as a dark red mini-van screeches to a halt in front of the 7-11. The driver exits the car, not wasting time to even park, and runs towards them. "Anne!"

"Mom!!!" Anne cries and she takes only a few steps before she's barreled over.

"Anne, oh my god, thank the heavens it's you! Anne, Anne, oh my baby," Anne's mom sobs into her shoulder before pulling back. Anne stares at her mother. Lets her eyes trace the deepened wrinkles, notice the shining, brown eyes the same shade as her own, the beauty mark on her chin. Her mom's glasses are new. Anne can't remember what they'd been, but now her mom wears tortoiseshell frames.

"I like your glasses," is the first thing to tumble out of Anne's mouth, and she nearly slaps herself. Her mom laughs wetly.

"Oh, Anne, oh, I've missed you so much." Her mother folds her back into her arms. Anne hugs back as tightly as she can for a second before her mom stiffens with a surprised grunt. "And you're so much stronger, when did that happen?"

Anne smiles. "I'll tell you about it." She steps back and grabs her mom by the shoulders. They're the same height now. "I'll tell you all about it." And that means... "Mom, let me introduce you to the Plantars," Anne steps to her mom's side and reveals her froggy family.

Her mother gasps and says something in Thai that Anne doesn't know. She would bet it's one of the worse swear words. "I know it's a shock, cuz, well, two foot tall talking frogs," says Anne and motions for the trio to come a bit closer. "But they protected me, fed me, and loved me while I was stranded in their world." Hop-pop shuffles the closes with Sprig and Polly poking their heads out behind him.

Hop-pop extends his hand. "My name is Hopadiah Plantar, it's an honor to meet you Mrs. Boonchuy." Her mom looks down at the wrinkly, orange hand and then back at Anne. She nods encouragingly and her mom steels herself before meeting the hand with her own.

She gingerly shakes it. "Pleasure to meet you...Hopadiah," Anne's mom says his name carefully. "My daughter says you kept her safe?" Hop-pop nods.

"To the best of my ability," and his face gains a wry look and he rubs the back of his neck. "When she and my grandkids weren't off chasing trouble."

Anne's mom smiles tentatively. "I'm sure. Are these your grandkids here?" Sprig comes out behind Hop-pop's back and puts out his hand.

"I'm Sprig Plantar! And this is-" A loud honk interrupts him and everyone in the group startles, moving to look at the source. A silver BMW is stuck behind her mom's mini-van and the one-way street doesn't give any wiggle around room. A shout filters out of the sports car. "MOVE YOUR CAR!" Except with a lot more swears. Anne's mom sighs.

"Introductions later, let's get in the car," she instructs and everyone moves.

All the frogs hesitate as they get closer, Sprig even flinching when Anne hauls open the back seat door with a slam. She gestures inside. "C'mon guys, it's just like a wagon," Anne says. Polly hops in first and settles into the closest middle row seat. She bounces a couple times.

"It's comfy," the polliwog reports. The jerk in the BMW honks again, even longer. Sprig and Hop-pop pile in and Anne closes the door behind them. She gets into the passenger seat and the feeling of air conditioning against her skin is like. Magic wind. Super relaxing. Like insane luxury. Oh, Anne missed technology.

"Buckle up." Her mom clicks her seat belt into the lock and starts pulling away immediately. Leaving Anne to explain what 'buckle up' means, and what a seat belt is, and no she doesn't know when they were invented. The questions continue as the mini-van pulls onto the highway, but the group soon quiets down. Anne blinks slowly and looks outside the window. The trees and billboards and other cars pass by her so quickly, so much quicker than Bessie could ever go. A pang strikes her heart as Anne realizes Bessie will be all alone. She hopes the Plantar's family snail is taken care of while they're gone. Anne looks away from the window as nausea grips her throat. She's almost home. She can hold off on falling apart for just a little longer.

.

"Anne, honey, are you awake? We're home."

Anne blinks and she squeezes her eyes tight and yawns loudly and long. She hadn't realized she dozed off. "I'm...home." She opens the door and doesn't let her twinging feet deter her from getting a good look at her home. The small bushes that lined the driveway, the slightly dented mailbox, the umbrella her dad always left outside the red door. Anne drinks it all in.

For the past several months she had been in a world with fantastical flora and fauna and shocking experiences every day, but Anne feels dizzy at the sight of her home. Her eyes catch on every detail, the once too-familiar not familiar enough. The bristly door mat; the unpolished brass numbers: 301; the creaky porch step; the small, pink, clay owl figurine Anne had given to her mom for Mother's Day in fifth grade and sat tucked in the corner. Her eyelashes are sticky with tears.

"Your house is SOOOOOOOOO BIG!" Anne snorts and is grateful for Sprig. She turns around to look at the small, pink frog.

"It's pretty nice! I've loved growing up here. Three-oh-one Silver Spring Lane." A gobsmacked look.

"You have springs made of silver?" Sprig's jaw drops. Hop-pop's head pokes out of the van.

"What's this I hear of silver springs?"

Surprisingly, it's Anne's mom who answers. She laughs, and it soothes Anne, before saying, "No, Hopadiah. It's just a nice name for a road." Anne tunes out what Hop-pop replies in favor of turning back to the door.

The metal door handle is hot to touch, searing from the oppressive California heat. She breathes out in a harsh whoosh and forces herself to yank the door open. It slams against the wall and the hinges squeak. Anne hears a sound of protest from her mom, but she can't acknowledge it when there's a bullet of fluff running towards the door.

"DOMINO!" The cat jumps into Anne's arms and she catches her, swinging Domino around and around and gosh, will Anne ever stop crying today? She hides her tears in Domino's soft, white belly, and laughs as the cat wiggles around to climb up her shoulders. Domino wraps around her neck and rubs Anne's check with her cute, little face.

Anne collapses to her knees and she pulls her cat around and holds her so carefully and so, so close. Domino allows this longer than ever before, but soon she does squirm and fall to the carpet on all four feet. She chirps and purrs vacuum-like. Anne's hands move on their own accord, stroking down Domino's back, scratching all her sweet spots, reacquainting herself with her Domino, her beautiful angel baby.

"Anne, could you move your reunion a few feet more into the hallway? So we can come in?" Her mom says, her tone telling Anne she's smiling. Anne kisses her baby's head one more time before standing up and moves to the side. Ugh, her knees hurt from carpet burn. That's one thing she hadn't missed.

"Sprig, Polly, Hop-pop! Remember the killapillar?" Anne scoops up Domino and holds her out. "This is Domino One!" Sprig steps closer, squinting. He pokes at Domino's paw and she mrrps! at him. He flinches back for a second before staring deep into her eyes. Anne watches this stare-off with no small amount of amusement.

Eventually, Sprig asks, "So this Domino won't kill us for dinner?" Anne shakes her head and a leaf drifts from her hair.

"Nope!"

Sprig oh so slowly reaches a finger to Domino's long-haired back. "Oh!" He says, curling his fingers through the fur. "She's even softer than peatmoss."

Polly joins her brother and jumps up and down on her new, little legs. "Let me pet her!" Anne leans back down, but Domino wriggles out her grip and runs down the hallway, disappearing around the kitchen corner. Polly pouts. "Aw! I wanted to touch Domino One."

Anne pats her yellow bow. "Don't worry. There's plenty of time for that later."

"I believe a good use of time right now," Anne's mom says, still lingering in the open door, "would be for you to change out of your dirty clothes. Go take a shower."

Anne stares at her mom stunned. "Oh my god...," she whispers. "I shall finally be clean." Sprig laughs.

"Are there no showers where you come from?" Anne's mom asks Hop-pop as Anne still revels in the very idea of pressurized water.

"I can't say I know what a shower-whatsit is, but we did bathe," Hop-pop says archly, half at Anne's mom and half at her. Her mom nods understandingly. Then frowns.

"Do you have any spare clothes with you?" She asks and all the Plantars go wide-eyed.

"We..." Hop-pop can't finish his sentence hands twisting his ascot. Sprig looks morose and he's holding onto his slingshot tightly. Polly is similar, tugging at her frayed and dirty yellow bow. Anne's heart twinges, and she cuts in.

"We didn't exactly have time to pack our wardrobes when we came, Mom," she says. "I have piggy bank money, we can go shopping guys! You guys have to see the mall. This time, my treat," she tries to cheer up the little frogs.

Sprig and Polly perk up at the mention of visiting the mall, but Hop-pop and her mom both protest at once.

"Anne, that's mighty kind of you, but-"

"Anne, that's very generous, but-"

Both stop and her mom motions for the frog to continue. Hop-pop waits a second more before saying, "Anne, you don't need to spend your savings on us. We can make do if you just show us to a wash bucket and a needle with thread. When these get worn out, we'll cross that river when we come to it." Anne's mom then lays a hand on Hop-pop's shoulder, slightly crouching to reach. Hop-pop nods at her.

Her mom smiles before saying to him, "I can certainly show you the washing machine, but we'll figure out another set of clothes for you." Her gaze casts over Sprig, Polly, and Anne. "For all of you. And Anne," her mom walks up to her and she smiles with glistening eyes, "when did you grow up so much?" She brings Anne into a tight hug before releasing her. And boops her nose. Anne squeals. Her mom smiles. "I will pay for the shopping. Now!" She claps. "Shoes off."

Everyone looked down at their feet and noticed the frogs didn't have any. "Ah well, shoes and...shoe off. Anne, what happened to your shoe?"

Anne waves it off. "Lost it a few months ago." Her mother grumbles and Anne suspects she'll be getting a new pair of sneakers in the near future. Then it occurs to her, "Where's Dad?"

"He had to stay to make sure the delivery went smoothly since Jackson quit and everyone else messes it up," her mom explains while running her hands through Anne's hair.

Anne gasps. "No! Not Jackson."

"Yes, Jackson," replies her mom. Her fingers tug painfully through Anne's hair and come away holding a handful of leaves and twigs. "Is there an entire forest in your head? Now off you go, shower. Get the dirt off," she commands. Anne rolls her eyes.

"Yes, Mom," Anne says in Thai and kisses her cheek. She looks to the Plantars. "You guys okay with my mom showing you around the house? Show you somewhere to sit and some water?"

Hop-pop nods and Polly wiggles. "I have a mighty THIRST," she yells. Anne giggles.

"Well, alright froggy fam. See you on the flip side," and she starts to head up the steps, her fingers trailing the railing, when a cough causes her to pause. She glances back.

"Anne..." Sprig says, "welcome home."

Tears spill over her cheeks and Anne half-falls down the stairs to give him a tight hug. Quickly, other froggy arms surround the two and are joined by a pair of human arms. All together, all safe, all alive. Anne takes a deep breath, and exhales heavily. She's back home.

[lifeofkaze]

October Writing Challenge 2021 - Day 5

Zadie Taylor-Allen belongs to my wonderful bestie @the-al-chemist, Farid Sikander (in mention) belongs to @carewyncromwell

Dedicated to the wine club @kc-and-oc @the-al-chemist @whatwouldvalerydo You know why🌻🌻🌻

It was common knowledge that time moved slower when one wasn’t enjoying themselves, but Reva Amari had never felt the truth of it more ardently than on this sunny winter afternoon. It had snowed the night before, and the grounds of Hogwarts were covered in a thick layer of perfectly white, powdery snow.

Reva could hear the screams and laughter from the other students enjoying themselves in the wintery wonderland through the high windows of the dusty library. She thought wistfully about her new snowboard waiting for her in her dormitory; how much fun would it be to pile up some of the snow and just whisk down the makeshift mound on it. She would even settle for throwing snowballs at the Slytherin Quidditch team; she wasn’t picky at all, as long as it got her out of this lifeless, boring library.

“Reva, concentrate,” the voice of her friend and honourary older sister Danielle broke her out of her musings. “You need to pass this test with flying colours if you don’t want to get taken off the Quidditch team.”

“I know,” Reva sighed deeply. “Give me some credit for trying.”

“I don’t see you trying that hard,” her brother Dylan jumped in. He didn’t even bother raising his eyes from his book about Potions, but he didn’t need to; he knew Reva was rolling her eyes at him without looking.

“It’s not my fault History of Magic is the most boring subject in existence,” Reva complained. “I don’t even know how you manage to stay awake during class.”

“I don’t,” Dylan said flatly, “I get Dana’s notes from the year before.”

Reva opened her mouth to protest but shut it again when she saw the withering glare of the librarian directed her way. “What are you lecturing me about then,” she hissed with a lowered voice, “you’re no better than me.”

“The best notes don’t help if you don’t put the work in to memorise them,” Dana said leniently. “You can have them as well, but that alone won’t do you no good.”

“I need someone to make this more interesting. Right now, this nonsense is drier than the desert,” Reva complained. “Maybe I could ask Farid for help?”

Dylan did look up from his book at her words. “You’re going to do no such thing,” he said with a surprising sharpness in his voice.

Reva smirked at having successfully gotten under her brother’s skin; served him just right. She wanted to tell him so, but was cut short when an enchanted piece of parchment fluttered into her view and landed before her on her textbook.

Curious, Reva picked it up and unfolded it; she recognised the handwriting of her best friend Zadie immediately. The note contained only two words:

Code Sunflower

Next to her, Dana leaned over to take a look; she frowned. “Code Sunflower? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Reva didn’t reply; she was busy stuffing her things into her bag as fast as she could. She was halfway up from her seat when Dana got hold of her arm. “We’re not done here. I’m your prefect and your friend, and I promised to make sure you’ll pass that test,” she said sternly.

“I know, I’ll do it tomorrow, promise,” Reva said hurriedly and gently freed her arm from Dana’s hand. “But this is kind of an emergency.”

Before either Dana or Dylan could say anything else, Reva snatched up her bag and quickly left the library. She made a short detour to the Gryffindor Tower to drop off her things and retrieve some others from her dormitory before she made her way up to the Astronomy Tower. It was one of Zadie’s favourite places and if she was troubled, chances were good she would be there.

As it turned out, Reva had been right. She found her best friend leaned against the wooden railing running around the platform that circled the highest tower of the castle. She was bundled up in a thick coat and her blue-and-bronze Ravenclaw scarf to counter the sharp winds up here. Reva stuffed her own crimson-and-gold scarf deeper into her jacket and buried her hands in her pockets as she stood next to Zadie.

“You were quick,” Zadie said with a small smile.

“It’s Code Sunflower,” Reva replied, “you don’t make someone wait when it’s Code Sunflower.”

“I suppose so,” Zadie sighed and fell silent. A troubled expression crossed her face and Reva waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, Reva nudged her gently into the side.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked gently.

Zadie looked out over the snowy grounds and extended her hand. A lone snowflake floated down from the grey sky and landed on her palm. Both girls watched as it slowly melted and left only a tiny puddle of water behind.

“I had Potions earlier,” Zadie said eventually.

“The worst,” Reva said immediately, but fell silent when Zadie gave her a look. “Sorry, go on.”

“You know I’m no good at Potions,” she sighed, “but I was really trying today. But I still messed up. I added the shrivelfig before the valerian sprigs, and all the wrong amounts, too. I don’t know how it happened, my head was somewhere else. My potion started expanding and flowed over the cauldron and the workbench and literally everywhere. It was a disaster.”

“Oh no,” Reva said sympathetically, “that can happen to the best of us, though.”

“I know,” Zadie said passionately, “but that’s not what the professor seemed to think. He was so mad at me. ‘I’m clearly teaching the worse Taylor-Allen girl’ were his words to be exact.”

Zadie sniffed ever so slightly and a wave of righteous anger flooded Reva. How did that old bugger dare talk to Zadie like that? Only because her grades weren’t as perfect as those of her older sister, it didn’t mean Zadie was stupid, or untalented, or anything else but a fantastic witch.

“Screw him,” Reva said fiercely, “he has no idea what he’s talking about. So what, you don’t have a straight O in Potions like Phoebe does. Neither do I. Neither do Dylan or Dana or Victoire. The only person I know who did is Dana’s mum, if I think about it. But that doesn’t mean we don’t know what we’re doing, or makes us stupid or anything like that. Don’t you dare think this even for a second or I’ll give you an earful. You’re brilliant, and talented and great, just in a different way than Phoebe.”

She saw the small smile forming on Zadie’s face and Reva continued. “I very much doubt Phoebe would have been able to block my throws as annoyingly well as you did in our last housematch. That really hurt my pride, you know.”

Zadie threw her head back and laughed, the sound ringing clear into the winter sky. “You’d have transported her right through the hoop. If she had managed to stay on her broom in the first place.”

Reva grinned. “That’s my girl talking.”

She reached into her pocket and produced a small, silver flask she offered to her friend. Zadie raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Do I want to know where you got that from?”

“A gift from my godmother,” Reva laughed, “she sent it over the other day.”

“You know that’s probably 100 % forbidden,” Zadie grinned as she took the flask from Reva and took a small swig.

“I have a reputation to uphold after all,” Reva smirked and took a sip herself. The coffee liqueur burned delightfully and was much milder than she had anticipated. She immediately felt a little warmer.

“Speaking of which,” Reva said slowly, while she furtively pushed the snow on the railing in front of her together, “try blocking this.”

She quickly gathered up the snowball she’d formed and threw it at Zadie. Before Zadie could even react, it had hit her square in the face and Reva couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s dumbfounded expression.

“You didn’t do that for nothing,” Zadie exclaimed before gathering her own load of snow from the ground and throwing it after Reva, who just so managed to duck away from it.

The sky was already darkening when they made their way down from the Astronomy Tower, drenched, shivering and with their faces feeling like they were on fire.

Reva’s cheeks were still flushed from both the cold and the coffee liqueur when she dropped into her seat next to Dana and Dylan in the Great Hall for dinner. Dana looked her up and down with an amused expression, taking in her dishevelled state.

“Is your emergency solved?”

“You could say so, yes,” Reva smiled and helped herself to some deliciously warm soup. She shuddered when she warmed her hands over the steaming bowl.

“Wonderful, just in time to study with me after dinner,” Dana continued. She laughed when Reva pulled a face. “Sorry kiddo, I’m not letting you off the hook so easily. And there won’t be another cryptic message getting you out of this one.”

Dana’s expression turned curious. “What was it about anyway?”

Reva blew against her spoon and winced when she burned her tongue. “It was a message from Zadie.”

“Naturally,” Dylan muttered from the other side of the table, but Reva and Dana both paid him no mind.

“Code Sunflower is when you’re feeling troubled because someone said something stupid and you need to vent,” Reva explained before trying her soup a second time. It warmed her even better than the liqueur had.

Dana blinked at her in surprise. “Why sunflowers, though? They are lovely.”

Reva dipped her head back and laughed at the memory of how they had come up with that code in the first place.

“Trust me,” she giggled, “you don’t want to know.”

[sunmoonandsandsoundtracks]

holly jolly christmas

okay, here comes my attempt at a monthly challenge. i didn't get to do smut back in october, so let's see if i can do it now.

this is another surprise x reader, but the actual person is not ever named. i may or may not do a part 2 to this. i might just leave it open ended. if you want a second part, comment and tell me who you want it to be! i have someone in mind, but i might be swayed.

bring on the holiday.

disclaimer: the plot and unnamed character only are mine to own, so if you feel inclined to sue me, fuck off and leave me alone.

spotify/youtube

word count: 1001

enjoy! putting a read more line here because even though it's not all that long, i don't want it hogging up your screen.

The party was in full swing with music and liveliness, but you were too busy pouting as you looked out the window, wishing you saw snow on the ground, or at least falling. Sure, it was still early in the month, but you wanted your white Christmas, damn it.

“Hey! Come on!” a familiar, rough voice called to you. “Why aren’t you having fun?”

“I am having fun,” you said, facing Naruto as he approached you, carrying two cups of punch. With a slight smirk, you took the cup he offered you and added, “I’m having fun speculating who’s going to win the ugly sweater contest. You’re in first place, hands down.”

Leave it to Naruto to find an ugly orange Christmas sweater.

“Some friend you are!” He griped.

You just laughed. “Hey, that’s a good thing. I don’t even know what the prize is. It might be free coupons for ramen.”

“That would be so cool!”

You gave him a little nod and sipped your punch. The two of you chatted a bit longer, and you promised him to join the party. So you made your way to the refreshments table, snagged some of your favorite cookies, then worked your way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces.

“Oh, good, you’re here!” Ino said when she saw you. “Look, I need you to be chill for five minutes, and work with me.”

You sent her a bemused look. “I was feeling pretty chill, but now I’m really concerned.”

“Just go along with it. It’ll be over faster if you do,” Sakura said, standing beside the bubbly woman. “I promise, it’s nothing huge.”

“Okay, but why me?”

“Can’t tell you, now come here!” Ino chirped, grabbing your arm and dragging you away from the throng.

“Right this second?” You grumbled as you stumbled along.

She led you to an empty hallway, where you noticed a sprig of mistletoe hanging above.

“Ino, are you-?”

“Someone here really wants to kiss you, but they’re a little nervous about how you’ll react. If you agree, I’m going to blindfold you, then get them. You can’t take the blindfold off until I come back and tell you they’re gone, okay?”

“So I’m just supposed to kiss someone who could be a total stranger-”

“No, you know them pretty well!” She insisted.

“-and then we just go on our merry way? I don’t get to know?”

“They’ll tell you on Christmas day, and with any luck, you’ll want to kiss them again. Trust me, it’s completely safe, and I know this person would never hurt you in a million years.”

Once more, you were befuddled. “Against my better judgment, fine. I need something to liven up my holiday.”

A little squeak of excitement came from her as she produced a thick, wide red ribbon and tied it around your head, making sure it was secure, and that you couldn’t see through it.

“Okay, they’ll be here soon!”

Once you were pretty sure she was gone, you sighed and leaned against the wall. “I have no one to blame but myself if I wind up dead and stuffed in one of the closets here.”

It didn’t seem like very long before you sensed another presence. “Hello?”

No response. “Alright, I can appreciate a good mystery. I think I trust you enough just based on the fact that you got Ino to help you. We’ll just see how this goes, and if it doesn’t go well, you can maintain your anonymity. Fair?”

Their answer was to abruptly press their lips to yours. Your mind immediately tried to determine who it could be by using your senses. Their lips were soft. Soft like a girl who regularly used lip balm or gloss, you weren’t sure. Your own lips were a bit chapped, so you didn’t think you were getting an accurate read. They must have passed through the crowd at some point, because you could detect a variety of scents on them, making it impossible to go by that.

Their hands went to your waist, and while you could have tried to feel those, you opted to focus on the kiss itself. It was tender, and you could tell they were treading lightly. Your hands rested on their arms- they wore a thick enough coat that you couldn’t even gauge those- and you deepened it just slightly, giving them permission to take it further.

They did, and there was no question about your eagerness to find out who they were.

It evolved into a hungry liplock where moans were exchanged, leaving you wondering if it was going to go even further than just a kiss on the lips. Just as the heat between you reached its peak, they pulled away. Disappointed, you resisted the urge to pull them back, while they brushed a gloved hand over your cheek, then took your hand and placed a folded note in it before fleeing. You obediently waited for Ino to return and uncover your eyes.

“So, how was it?” She questioned, sending you a sly look that told you she knew. “You might want to go fix yourself in the bathroom before going back. Do you have any idea who it might be?”

“No,” you scoffed. “It could have been you for all I know.”

“Guess they covered their bases. Well, it gives you another reason to look forward to Christmas.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

She left you to go straighten up like she suggested, and as soon as you got to the restroom, you read the note your potential soon-to-be significant other left you. They didn’t even give you a hint with their handwriting, writing it out in what must have been painstakingly careful script that could have been typed.

Have a holly jolly Christmas, and I’ll find you under the mistletoe the day of to finish what we started.

To say the very least, you weren’t so hung up anymore on whether or not there’d be snow.

[birdhaslostit]

🎁🎄❄️What the Lupin Gang would do for Christmas!❄️🎄🎁

Helloooooooo Lupin fans! You may or may not remember me as that one chick who made that Halloween headcanon post a few months back, as well as the Jigen’s bangs post. I’m back with a Christmas post!!!

Please note: Personally, I really only celebrate Christmas in a non-Jesus-y way. (Which is how I’m also writing this post, because let’s be honest, do you really think Lupin is going to confession and shit? Absolutely not.) It’s purely out of habit because I was raised Catholic, but I practice witchcraft now. My family doesn’t know that though. Because of this, I considered also making posts for other winter holidays, so I could include Lupin fans that don’t celebrate Christmas. But I didn’t want to accidentally mess it up, or write something inaccurate about a holiday that I don’t celebrate. It felt disingenuous to make a Hanukkah post because I’m not Jewish and it doesn’t seem like my place, and I didn’t want to do a Yule one either, because no two people celebrate it the same way. So, I strongly encourage others to add their respective winter festivities to this post if they want to! We’re all about inclusivity here.

Without further ado:

🎁LUPIN:

I don’t feel like it needs saying, but this man goes bonkers for Christmas.

He flip-flops his choice of red or green jacket by the year. But it always comes with an equally garish Christmas-themed tie, just to make explicitly clear that this is The Christmas Jacket for the year, as opposed to the standard red/green jacket.

The hideout(s) are always decorated to the GILLS inside. It’s an odd mix of older classy decorations he’s inherited from his family, and absolutely horrendously tacky ones he’s bought himself. 

Picture real branch garlands, wrapped tastefully around gilded candelabras that have been passed down through several generations. And then one of those singing, dancing stuffed animals from Walmart that plays “Jingle Bell Rock” when you squeeze its paw, right next to it.

Christmas-themed heists? You know it, baby. But he won’t steal anything on Christmas Eve or Christmas. It just isn’t in the spirit of the season, in his opinion. But he’ll leave a little something-something with his calling cards during the rest of December. A candy cane, a sprig of mistletoe, a bough of holly, etc.

Lupin despises eggnog. He loves any other Christmas drink, just not eggnog. He’s too grossed out by the idea of drinking eggs with alcohol- some things just shouldn’t be mixed.

Will not allow anyone to mention the truth about Santa Claus in his presence. Yeah, he knows, but that’s not the point. It just feels like bad luck to say it out loud. The harder Jigen tries to debate with him that Santa isn’t real, the harder he digs in his heels that “of course he is you absolute Scrooge, how dare you! If you don’t believe, you don’t receive.”

Favorite Christmas Songs: Anything peppy! 

Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney

Step Into Christmas by Elton John

Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee

We Need a Little Christmas by Percy Faith and his Orchestra

A Holly Jolly Christmas by Burl Ives

All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey

Santa Claus’ Party by Les Baxter

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Literally anything except eggnog.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Anything obscenely sugary. Especially gingerbread men and other decorated pastries.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Loves to ice skate and make gingerbread houses! But his houses usually look fairly pathetic, no matter how hard he tries.

Favorite Christmas Movie(s): 

The Grinch (Jim Carrey version)

Home Alone

Scrooged

Christmas Gifts: The king of gag gifts, but he also gives surprisingly thoughtful presents too. He’s the kind of guy that would get a person something they mentioned once offhandedly that they really liked, and he’d go back and get it for them.

🎅JIGEN:

Lupin always wants to decorate the hideout(s) the second Halloween ends, but it never happens. With Jigen being the only American in the gang, he always puts a stop to it in order to preserve the quickly-disappearing border between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

What can I say, dude loves his Thanksgiving excuse to eat like shit and do nothing for a day. Even if it is a fucked-up holiday, historically speaking.

But once the Thanksgiving meal is over, he gives Lupin the okay to go crazy. He’s pretty stoked about Christmas too, but too full of turkey to contribute, so he just watches Lupin hang up Christmas lights everywhere while he lays on the couch and digests.

Jigen likes Christmas a lot, but like, in a normal person kind of way. Nowhere near Lupin’s insane level. He’s surprisingly open about his enthusiasm too. The average person would think he doesn’t really care about Christmas much (or anything else really), but to the gang, Christmastime is the most openly excited they’ve ever seen him.

One year’s Christmas-themed heist involved Jigen dressing up as a mall Santa as a part of the plan. The gang powdered his beard, gave him a pillow for his stomach, and sent him on his way. Everything went surprisingly smoothly, and he actually did pretty well with the kids. At first they were a little intimidated, and Jigen was kind of nervous- but he gave them all candy canes and they changed their minds pretty quickly.

Jigen enjoyed it a lot, actually... to the point that he may have potentially started volunteering to be the local mall Santa. Every year during December, he leaves for a day or two on “business.” Nobody in the gang can prove it though, and trust me, they’ve tried.

Favorite Christmas Songs: The classics and the chill ones, with a few rock ones thrown in for a little kick.

Mele Kalikimaka by Bing Crosby

Sleigh Bells by Gene Autry

(There’s No Place Like) Home For The Holidays by Perry Como

Jingle Bells by Frank Sinatra

Caroling, Caroling by Nat King Cole

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow by Dean Martin

Silver Bells by Dean Martin

Happy Holiday by Bing Crosby

Run Rudolph Run by Chuck Berry

Merry Christmas Baby by Bruce Springsteen (Sang this once after too much eggnog and will never live it down)

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen by the Barenaked Ladies (He’s not into all the Jesus-y stuff, but it’s pretty catchy.)

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Jigen is ALL. ABOUT. THAT. NOG. He’ll make his cup a little stronger than everyone else’s.

Favorite Christmas Foods: He really likes candy canes, especially the mini ones. He’ll keep a few in his pocket with his cigs, and switch between them depending on his mood. Out of habit, it’ll usually dangle out of his mouth like a cigarette would.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Watching Christmas movies and laughing at Lupin’s shitty gingerbread houses.

Favorite Christmas Movies: 

Anything that’s on at the moment, really. He likes to lounge by the TV, and he’s not picky. 

He has a soft spot for A Charlie Brown Christmas though.

A Christmas Story, solely because of the BB gun.

Scrooged, because Bill Murray’s hilarious.

Christmas Gifts: Something practical and useful that the person never realized they needed until they opened the box.

☃️GOEMON:

Goemon wasn’t originally a huge fan of Christmas. Shocking, I know.

He now enjoys some aspects of it, and tolerates others. He likes the idea of giving heartfelt gifts and spending time with loved ones as a tradition, but dislikes the cheesy commercial aspect of Christmas.

He already enjoys the snow and walking through the forest, so the gang usually commissions him to pick a tree for them and cut it down with Zantetsuken. (If they’re somewhere where that’s an option.)

Unbeknownst to the rest of the gang, he will always replant the tree he cut down, and he will wrap something cozy around the bottom of the sapling to keep it safe. Yes, this was directly inspired by A Charlie Brown Christmas. No, he will not admit to this.

Favorite Christmas Songs: The instrumentals, and a few he’d rather die than admit to liking.

The Nutcracker March from The Nutcracker

Waltz of the Flowers from The Nutcracker

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from The Nutcracker

Christmas Time Is Here (Instrumental) by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Greensleeves by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Last Christmas by Wham! (He likes the storyline and the romantic aspect of it.)

Do They Know It’s Christmas? by Band Aid (He likes that it was for a good cause, even if it has its flaws.)

Happy Xmas (War Is Over) by John Lennon and Yoko Ono (Again, flawed, but he enjoys the intended message of peace. Also, represents Japan on the side with Yoko Ono.)

White Winter Hymnal by Fleet Foxes

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Surprisingly fond of hot cocoa. Heavy on the whipped cream and marshmallows. 

Favorite Christmas Foods: Doesn’t really like eating gingerbread men, but enjoys decorating them. They’re always pristine, like something you’d get in a bakery.

Favorite Christmas Activities: See above. Also enjoys going out in the snow, and making ice sculptures with Zantetsuken.

Favorite Christmas Movies: Refuses to admit he likes any of these.

Any of the classic Rankin Bass claymation specials.

Any other animated ones for kids. Has a soft spot for A Charlie Brown Christmas and The Polar Express.

A few of those cheesy Hallmark ones.

Christmas Gifts: Something small and sentimental he saw while walking by a store that reminded him of the person he’s giving it to. Nothing extravagant, but thoughtful nonetheless.

⛸FUJIKO:

Fujiko decorates the tree. Period. Lupin cannot be trusted to do this on his own. Goemon picks the tree, Lupin and Jigen put it in the stand, and from there, it’s all Fujiko. The ornaments, lights, and tree skirt are all perfectly color/theme coordinated, and arranged like a pristine store display. 

She also has a few ornaments that she bought for each specific member of the gang. Lupin’s is a monkey (he was not pleased, but he’s whipped for her, so he let her keep it). Jigen’s is a carved wooden pistol. Goemon’s is porcelain, with hand-painted sakura blossoms on it. She bought one for Zenigata too as a joke one year- a tiny bowl of ramen noodles.

Her ornament? The star on top of the tree, because she’s the star of the show, baby. It’s actually a snowflake, made of the finest crystal she could steal.

Favorite Christmas Songs: Pop music and Motown’s finest.

Underneath The Tree by Kelly Clarkson

All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey

Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande

This Christmas by Donny Hathaway

What Christmas Means To Me by Stevie Wonder

Sleigh Ride by The Ronettes 

Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee

Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) by Darlene Love

A Marshmallow World by Darlene Love

I Like A Sleighride (Jingle Bells) by Peggy Lee

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Hot chocolate and mulled wine.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Loves baking and eating gingerbread men. She lets Goemon decorate them with her. Hers have lots of candy and sprinkles on them, while his are just icing.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Along with baking, ice skating! She’s the best at it out of the whole group. None of the guys are particularly good at it, but she makes them go with her at least once regardless.

Favorite Christmas Movies:

Hallmark ones, solely to make fun of them.

Babes In Toyland, but only the 1986 one, because it has Keanu Reeves in it, and “I don’t care if I’m your girlfriend, Lupin. In this house, we support Keanu Reeves.”

Christmas Gifts: Something expensive/extravagant that will make the person think of her every time they use it.

🎄ZENIGATA:

Zenigata is the second biggest Christmas enthusiast, just behind Lupin.

He doesn’t get to settle down and decorate anything really, since he’s always running after the gang, but he does lots of other little things to celebrate instead. Like getting hot chocolate instead of coffee, tuning the squad car radio to the Christmas station, getting an air freshener that smells like gingerbread, and wearing a festive scarf and gloves with his trench coat to keep out the cold.

In years past, Zenigata still had to work on Christmas Eve/Christmas, even if Lupin wasn’t out stealing anything. Lupin found out and thought that was a little harsh of ICPO, so he came up with a plan. 

Each year he sends a calling card to the station with the conditions that only Zenigata can come to investigate. Zenigata does some research, shows up to the location on Christmas Eve, and every year, nothing’s there except for a neatly wrapped present from Lupin. 

Zenigata keeps the present as “evidence,” goes back to the station, and they give him Christmas off to go investigate on his own, in case Lupin tries anything else. Lupin never does, but the station doesn’t know that. Bada bing, bada boom, Lupin just got Zenigata a vacation.

Zenigata never catches on, bless his heart.

Favorite Christmas Songs: Ones he can sing/hum along to in the squad car.

The Man With All The Toys by The Beach Boys

Celebrate Me Home by Kenny Loggins

Feliz Navidad by José Feliciano (Does Zenigata understand Spanish? Absolutely not. Does he get the point and think it’s festive? Darn right.)

A Holly Jolly Christmas by Burl Ives

Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer by Dean Martin

Winter Wonderland by the Eurythmics

Silver Bells by Dean Martin

Happy Holiday/The Holiday Season by Andy Williams

Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town by Gene Autry

December by Earth, Wind, and Fire (Let him have this okay, it’s a good song and he gets made fun of for liking it by the rest of ICPO)

Skating by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Hot cocoa and eggnog, but not strong eggnog like Jigen’s.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Anything, really. It’s something besides cup noodles, so he’s grateful. Lupin’s gift always includes lots of various Christmas goodies because of this.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Zenigata enjoys the snow in theory, but doesn’t handle the cold well. So he likes to watch the snow from his window while he listens to Christmas music in his squad car and sips his hot cocoa.

Favorite Christmas Movies: He doesn’t really have a lot of time to sit down a watch a movie, with how hard he works. But he remembers a few from when he was younger, and he really likes those. His favorite is Frosty the Snowman.

Christmas Gifts: Something inexpensive because ICPO vastly underpays this poor man, and he’s always embarrassed because of that, but it’s always something super sweet and heartfelt.

MERRY CHRISTMAS! And for those who don’t celebrate it, HAPPY HOLIDAYS! <3

[kiddoryder]

Times to Heal

For @wombatking enjoy! Thanks for commissioning me!

Anne was in her room just laying down in bed. She was happy that she and her frog family were able to get back to Wartwoods, find Sasha and even freed Marcy. However, they all had to go into hiding due to King Andres now trying to find them. Anne was not only worried about that, but she was looking for a bit down and saw a picture of her, Sasha, and Marcy. She had mixed feelings about it. It's like she had good times with them, but yet, she felt like it was nothing but lies. She was about to rip it but couldn't bring herself to do it. The strange thing is Anne didn’t know why she couldn’t do it. 

 “Anne you, okay?”

 Anne - Huh? *Turns her head and see Sprig standing next to her* Oh yeah, I’m okay.

 Sprig - *concerned* “Are you sure? You can tell me.”

 Anne - *sighs* “I don’t know, I mean I feel like the picture is based on lies.”

 Sprig - *confused* “What picture?”

 Anne shows him the picture of her, Sasha, and Marcy. Sprig was surprised because he didn't think Anne would still have the picture after everything that happened between her and Sasha. However he can see that Sasha is still important to Anne.”

 Sprig - “Oh yeah.”

 Anne - “I just don’t know if our friendship is a lie or not. I mean Sasha not only tried to have Hop Pop executed for his crimes, but also tried to kill us at the Toad Tower.”

 Sprig - “I know…”

 Anne - “I know I tried to save her when she was about to fall, but I just have a feeling she hasn’t changed at all. I’m glad Marcy is still the same but not Sasha…It's like she is just using me and Marcy as puppets just so she can get what she wants. Maybe she doesn’t care about us…”

 Sprig: (*feeling bad for Anne*) “I’m sorry what you’re going through Anne.”

 Anne - “It’s okay, I just wish she could be a good friend for once. I feel like I was so blind being friends with her.”

 Sprig - “Yeah…But at least you have me. I know I would never do any of that to you.”

 Anne - *smiles* “Yeah. That’s true.” 

 Sprig - “You even have Hop Pop and Polly.”

 Polly - *dirty and running away* “You will never take me alive! I would rather die than get clean.”

 Hop Pop a *chases her* “Polly, get back here! You’re cover in mud and other stuff I do not want to know.”

 Polly - “Never!”

 Anne and Sprig laugh at the two. She knows that Sprig is right because despite losing Sasha, she still has the Planters and Marcy at her side. 

 Anne - “Well, whatever happened, at least I got you guys.”

 ()()()()()()()()()()

 Meanwhile Sasha was in her room looking at pictures of her Anne and Marcy. She sighs Grimes came in.

 Grime - “Ah Sasha! You’re just in time to hear about my latest plan to- *noticed how she is looking down* What's wrong with you?”

 Sasha - *sigh* “it’s nothing. I was just looking at my photo of my friends.”

 Grimes - *annoyed* Ugh again? You look at that photo almost every day! It’s just a picture.”

 Sasha - *mad* “Hey, it's not just a picture! They're my friends, and I’ll do anything to get them back so we can go home. But lately, they don’t trust me. Especially Anne. 

 Grime - “Well we do need their trust if we want to do the invasion. I think the only way is to proof that you change. That way we can go through with our plan.”

 Sasha - “Yeah that’s true. Because honestly, I didn’t expect Anne and Marcy to change this much. I guess it’s my turn.”

 Grime - “Yeah. If you don’t fix this now, our plan to attack the King would never work.”

 ()()()()()()()()

 Anne - *panting* “Man…That was brutal.” 

 Sprig - *panting* “That was…One of the toughest battles yet…”

 Hop Pop - *panting* “Yeah but…It was…Worth it!”

 Polly - *pouting and clean* “Ugh…Stupid bath. What it ever done for me?”

 Sprig - “Keep you clean and not smelly.”

 Then they heard a knock on the door. 

 Polly - “I got it!” 

 Polly moved herself to the door and try to reach the door. But due to her height, she couldn’t really reach it. 

 Polly - “Hmm stupid door. Good thing I have old Betsy.”

 Hop Pop - *terrified* “Oh geez not old Betsy!”

 Anne - *confused* “Wait, who’s Old-“

 Then Polly took out a big mallet and began pounding the door. She kept pounding and pounding until the door was broken into dust. 

 Sprig - *whispers to Anne* “Polly is more brutal with Old Betsy. She even uses it on the carriage when it got stuck in the mud* 

 Anne - *equally terrified* “Yeah I can tell Polly love that thing.”

 At the broken door there was Marcy. Marcy was holding a letter. 

 Marcy - “Hey Anna Banana!”

 Anne - *happily* “Mar Mar!”

 Both girls hugged each other, and Marcy said: 

 Marcy - “I got a letter for you and Me.”

 Anne - “Really? Who’s it from?”

 Marcy looks at the letter and her eyes widen in Surprise. 

 Marcy - “It’s from Sasha!”

 Anne - *surprised* “Really? *confused* Wait, why would she write us a letter?”

 Marcy - “Well we are hiding from King Andres. She probably wants us to be safe.”

 Sprig - “What does it say?”

 Marcy - “Sasha wanted to talk to us, Anne. She said it’s really important.”

 Sasha - *uncertain* “Are you sure we should go?”

 Hop Pop - “I think you and Marcy should go.”

 Anne - “What? But what about you guys?”

 Sprig - “Don't worry about us. We will be okay. Beside we got our weapons *take out his sling shot*”

 Polly - “And if that doesn’t work, we still have Doris!” *Take out Doris the rolling pin*

 Anne and Marcy chuckled, and they left to go meet up with Sasha. 

 ()()()()()()()()

 Anne - “Hey Mar Mar, did Sasha say why we have to meet her at the lake?”

 Marcy - “Well lakes are one of the most relaxing places. Sometimes even swimming in them can help calm the mind.”

 Anne - “Do you really think Sasha changed?”

 Marcy - “I believe so. I mean she help battling the king and even freed me.”

 Anne - “True…But she lied so much I can’t tell what’s she saying is even true anymore. Sometimes I even wonder if our friendship is nothing but lies.”

 Marcy - “I say we give her a chance. I mean she did risk her life for us.”

 Anne - “Yeah but-“

 Sasha - “Oh you finally came!”

 Anne and Marcy saw Sasha waving at them near the lake. Anne was surprised that Grimes wasn’t there with her. Grimes is always with Sasha and not seeing him with her is weird. Then again, it could be a sign that Sasha really did change. 

 Marcy - “I’m so glad that you are okay Sash!”

 Sasha - *scoff* “Oh please. Andres' army is nothing compared to mine and Grimes.”

 Anne - *uncomfortable* “Uh yeah. So why did you tell us to come here?”

 Sasha - “Because this is one of the safest places to be right now. Listen what I got to tell you is very important. You see I-“

 Then all of a sudden, they heard the lake rumbling. The lake bubbles, and then a giant water snake comes out. The water snake monster then saw Anne, eyes widened and made a loud ferocious roar. It tried to attack the girls, but they all jump out of the way. 

 Sasha - *freaked out* “Since when can snake swim?!”

 Marcy - “There are actually snakes who live in water!”

 Anne - *scared* “And that snake definitely wants revenge!”

 Marcy - “You know that thing?!”

 Anne - “Last time I saw it, Sprig nearly burn it organs!”

 The snake roared again. It also tried to attack, but the girls dodge it again. Anne realizes that the snake looks stronger, yet in tongue is badly burnt. 

 Anne - “Okay guys I have a plan-“

 Sasha - *determination*  “I got this!”

 Anne - *worried* “No Sash wait!”

 But Sasha didn’t listen. Sasha took out her sword and tried to stab the snake, but the snake pushes her away. Sasha landed on her feet and tried to attack again but the snake went underwater. Sasha looks frustrated and jump on the lily pads hoping to find the snake but didn’t see anything. 

 Anne - “Mar Mar we gotta help her!”

 Marcy - “On it!” 

 Both Anne and Marcy jump on the lily pads and use their hands to paddle where Sasha is. Sasha was still looking for the snake. 

 Sasha - *growls* “Come on out you stupid snake!”

 Marcy - “Sasha, some snakes can swim really fast!”

 Then Marcy looked down at the water and saw the snake swimming. She tried shooting her bow and arrow in the water hoping it could stop the snake. The snake came out and had arrows in his body, but it didn’t affect him at all. It just stood inside like small toothpicks. Marcy was about to shoot again but this time aiming for the eyes, but then Sasha jumped in front of Marcy. 

 Sasha - “I got this Marbles!”

 Marcy - “No Sasha! It’s too strong.”

 Sasha - “I handle worse things than this.”

 Anne - “Sasha listens!”

 But Sasha didn’t listen. Instead she did a high jump and landed on the snake’s head. She tried to stab the giant snake monster, but the snake monster roar and kept moving around trying to shake off Sasha. Sasha tried to hold on tight but was slowly losing grip. Then the snake did a headbutt to make Sasha loose grip and use its tail to smack Sasha away like if she was a fly. Anne and Marcy watch in horror seeing Sasha got smack and land hard. Sasha did a painful scream and felt pain especially around her ankle. The pain was too much and the last thing she heard was her friends calling her name. 

 ()()()()()()()()

 Sasha moaned and felt a dull pain. She slowly opened her eyes and noticed she was on a couch. Then something was on her chest and saw Polly looking at her in the face. 

 Polly - “Hello! Hey! Everybody, she's awake!” 

 Everybody went to see Sasha awake with Polly on her chest. 

 Hop Pop - “Good job Polly, you earn a cookie.”

 Hop Pop gave her a cookie and Polly happily eats it. 

 Sasha - *confused* “Guys? Where am I?”

 Anne - “Back home. We got away from the snake monster just in time.”

 Marcy - “We told Hop Pop what happened, and he had a doctor help you.”

 Sasha - *touched* “Oh…Thanks.”

 She was about to get up, but wince in pain. She looked and saw how her foot was now in a cast. And noticed that there were some drawings on it.

 Sprig - “Anne said when a person broke a bone, they wear a cast.”

 Sasha - *shocked* “Wait what?”

 Hop Pop - “You broke your ankle there Sasha. Told you that lake too dangerous. Sometimes I feel like these people don’t listen to me! I might of well speak their language to understand them.”

 Sasha - *shocked* “I broke my ankle…”

 Marcy - “But don't worry! It will heal in a few weeks.”

 Polly - “Hey! I know you’re upset about the whole ankle thing. Trust me, I would be upset too if I broke my ankle. I mean now with these babies, *pointed to her legs* I can fight much faster!”

 Sasha - “What do you want?”

 Polly - “Anne told me with something like this happens, you draw on the cast! So here’s one of my best artworks!”

 Polly began to draw on the cast. Then she finished and look proud of her work.

 Polly - “Ta da! It’s you are fighting the snake and if you got eaten by it!”

 Sasha - *creeped out* “Uhh….Thanks.”

 Anne - “Uhh guys? Can you leave us alone for a minute? We want to talk to Sasha.”

 Hop Pop - “Well alright then. We will be in the kitchen if you need us.”

 Sprig - “And we will let you know if any of Andres goons come!”

 The planters went to the kitchen to give Anne, Marcy, and Sasha some privacy. Sasha was shocked that she broke her ankle. She is Grimes second in command…She felt like she had to be stronger and not get hurt. She felt like a failure because not only she got hurt, but probably felt like she blew her chance. 

 Anne - *worried*  “Sasha what we’re you thinking?! You could have been killed!”

 Sasha - “I’m sorry Anne…I just felt like I had to do it.”

 Marcy - “But we could have done it together.”

 Anne - “Do you realize how worried we were about you?!”

 Sasha - “Look I- *realize something* you were worried about me?”

 Marcy - “Of course we were! We didn’t want you to get killed.”

 Sasha - “But…Why did you save me? After the horrible things I did.”

 Anne - “Cause Sash, yes you did horrible things, but not even you deserve death. But why did you want to fight that thing alone? We could have done it together.”

 Sasha - *snapped* “Because I wanted to prove it to guys!” 

 Marcy - *confused* “Proof what?”

 Sasha - *sighs* “That I really changed. Ever since coming here, and…That day Anne ended our friendship.”

 Anne - “Well it was temporary.”

 Sasha - “It doesn’t matter. When Anne called me a horrible person it  made me realize she was right…I really was a horrible person.”

 Marcy - “Oh come on Sash-“

 Sasha - “Marcy don’t you get it?! I tried to kill Anne's friends, I tried to take over innocent frogs' lives, and worst: I didn’t care about yours or Anne’s feelings. I just cared about myself and the stuff I wanted. Even when Sprig called me a bully, it made me realize that: I hated when other people bully you, but I was doing the same thing. I kept telling you guys what to do and what not to do like if you were puppets. At this point I feel like maybe I don’t deserve to be your friend and instead be friends with death.”

 Sasha had a few tears slip her eyes. Anne and Marcy look concerned and worried. They had never seen Sasha cry before. Seeing Sasha cry and how she truly felt made Anne realize Sasha instead truly did change for the better. For once, Sasha feels truly guilty about her selfishness and how it affects others. Then in a Surprised moment, Sasha felt being in a tight hug. 

 Anne - “Sasha…I’m really sorry for what I said…You're not a horrible person. Yes, I’ll admit before, you were bossy, but you actually did prove to me and Marcy that you truly do care about us.”

 Marcy - “Yeah. I mean you save me from Andres. You help us fight him and get the music box. You always protect us from bullies and other horrible things. Plus your leadership and bravery is awesome.”

 Anne - “We care about you Sasha. We always have.”

 Sasha had more tears in her eyes. But this time they were tears of joy. Sasha hug Anne and even Marcy tightly because she finally got her friends back. Then they felt more hugs and this time it was by the Planters. They didn’t mind one bit.

 ()()()()()()()()

 Sasha was struggling with her crutches. She never used her crutches before, and it was hard. It was like learning how to walk with new legs. Then she felt two hands helping her. Sasha looked up and saw it was Anne and Marcy smiling at her. 

 Marcy - “You need to put them under your arms.”

 Sasha then put the crutches under her arms, and they felt comfortable. 

 Anne - “And put the crutches first then yourself.”

 Sasha did what her friends told her, and it work. Sasha smiled and said:

 Sasha - “Thanks guys. Uh how did you know how to use crutches?”

 Marcy - “I use to have these a lot whenever I had an accident.”

 Anne - “And I use to have this one time when I sprained my ankle. After that skateboard incident when we roll down the hill.”

 Sasha - *surprised* “Really? I didn’t know riding that hill would hurt you. I thought it was because you trip over that huge rock.”

 Anne - *rubbing her head* “Yeah I kind of lied about that. I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

 Sasha - *sadly* “Oh…I’m really sorry about that.”

 Anne - “Hey it doesn’t matter now. What matters most is making you better.”

 Sasha - *smiles* “Thank guys.”

 Marcy - “And I find different ways to train you.”

 Sasha - *surprised* “Really?”

 Anne - “Yeah I mean we can teach you different sword techniques.”

 Marcy - “And plan out different ways of Andres weakness.”

 Anne - “The three of us can do this to defeat Andres and save the world.”

 Sasha - *smiles* “Yes. Together we can do this.”

 They put their hands together and smiles. 

 Marcy - “Oh! One more thing.”

 Marcy and Anne took out a maker and drew on Sasha’s cast. Sasha looked and smiled. It was a drawing of the three of them doing fighting poses along with the Planters and Grimes. Sasha is deeply touch on how her friends will be on her side and fix the relationship with them. 

 A few weeks later Sasha’s ankle was all better. After recovering, she began practicing her fighting, new tactics, and even being a better friend to Anne and Marcy. Then it was the day of the final battle with Andres. 

 Sasha - “Okay. We can do this. All of us. It’s a battle to defeat a so-called King.”

 Marcy - “If our plans work, we can defeat Andres once and for all!”

 Anne - “And we can all do it! We can do this!”

 Their army cheered and they all began to walk. Sasha first walk by herself but then saw Anne next to her. Then she saw Marcy, Sprig, Hop Pop, Polly, and Grimes by her side. 

 Sasha - “Hey Anne? Thank you for everything.”

 Anne - “No problem. Now let do this.”

 Hope you like it!

[verai-marcel]

Payback (RDR2 Fanfic, Morgan Twins x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Arthur and Thorne go out on an errand without telling you. When you find out what it is, you aren't happy that they kept it from you. So you plan a little payback. 

Author’s Notes: I wrote a little drabble a while back and several people wanted more. So here we go. Also there is a bit of Mary Linton bad mouthing in here, but I personally don't dislike her; I just find her to be a weak-willed character. Also this is the 3rd story in the Morgan Twins AU; read the other parts on my  Master list!

Tags: rough sex, teasing, neck grabbing, creampie, dirty talk, minor degredation

AO3 Link is here, sweetness.

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“Hosea, have you seen Arthur and Thorne?”

The older man put down his book and looked up at you, raising an eyebrow. “They didn’t tell you?”

You shook your head.

He picked his book back up. “They’re on an errand. They’ll be back before dark.”

You cocked your hip, arms akimbo. “What kind of errand?”

Hosea let out a small sigh. “I don’t know. Ask them when they come back.”

He knew. You knew that he knew. He knew that you knew that he knew. But he wasn’t saying anything else, diving back into his book without another word.

You huffed and went back to your chores, waiting for an opportune time. When Susan was busy supervising the girls who were washing clothes at the river, you snuck over to the horse area, grabbed one of the wagon horses, and left for the nearby town to see if you could catch sight of the twins.

***

It wasn’t hard to spot them, even from a few houses away. You hitched your horse at the general store and snuck around to find them standing on the porch of some farmhouse, bickering in low tones. You crept along as quietly as you could, hiding behind the next door building and craning your neck around the corner to hear while keeping the rest of your body hidden.

“You didn’t have to come.”

“I didn’t want you to do anything stupid.”

“I wouldn’t leave.”

“Mary has a way of wrapping you around her finger.”

“She doesn’t—”

The sound of a door creaking open interrupted Arthur’s reply. You could barely make out the woman beyond the large bodies of the two men blocking your view.

“Arthur!” she said happily.

“Mary,” Arthur said politely.

“And… Thorne,” she said with a hint of distaste. You immediately wanted to slap her.

“Why do you need help?” Thorne barked, his tone hard and impatient.

You could hear her taking a few steps around the porch. “It’s Jaimie. He’s been brainwashed by cultists! Please, bring him back, he won’t listen to me.”

“What, and your father won’t come get his own son?” Thorne snarked.

“He… He won’t,” she replied, sounding hurt.

“Mary…” Arthur said, the sympathetic tone in his voice grating on your insecurities.

“Surprise, surprise,” Thorne bit out. “Arthur, we don’t need to help, he’s a grown man, he can make his own decisions.”

Arthur was quiet.

“Arthur,” Thorne said more urgently.

“I’ll help,” Arthur finally said. He mumbled something else afterwards, but you didn’t catch it.

Thorne was silent, but after a few moments, he nodded. “Fine,” he grunted.

You didn’t wait to see any more. Leaving quietly, you concocted a plan. Stopping by both the doctor’s for some herbs and the general store for some beer, you mounted up and went back to camp.

***

You had heard from Tilly previously about the woman named Mary Gillis, the woman who had Arthur’s heart for a time, but did not accept Thorne and tried to drive a wedge between them, tried to take Arthur away from his own family. Tilly’s dislike of the woman was very clear, but having just seen proof of Mary’s disapproval of Thorne, you were more than willing to believe Tilly’s observations to be fact rather than personal opinion.

Arthur had kept this from you. You felt betrayed. You knew he wouldn’t go back to her, that was crystal clear. But the fact that he didn’t tell you where he was going, that he didn’t trust you enough, was a blow to your ego. Your feelings hurt, you decided with a clarity that belied the swirl of emotions in your heart to teach him a lesson. 

But for your plan to work, you had to trick them both as a pair. You felt a little bad about having to trick Thorne as well, but to be fair, he didn’t tell you where they were going either. That made him just as guilty. Almost.

***

"That was a waste of time."

"Jaime needed to get out of there."

"Then maybe his father shoulda went and got him. Not us. Not you."

"Thorne…"

"I know you said it was for his sake, not Mary's. But dammit, when she left, you looked like a kicked puppy."

"I just…" 

"Just what, Arthur?" 

"Just regrettin' all that time with her, that's all."

"Good. Remember who has our hearts now."

Arthur nodded solemnly. "Speakin' of…"

They had returned to camp to find that their love had not come to greet them. Heading over to their tent, they found a letter in the middle of the cot. Arthur looked at Thorne, who shrugged. Grabbing it and opening it carefully, Arthur read it out loud. 

"My lovely men, meet me at the hotel in town. I'm treating you to a nice dinner and a warm bed, to reward you for working so hard lately."

Thorne grinned. "Race ya."

***

At the hotel, you smiled as you saw the two of them hitching their horses. You called to them from the window and waved, acting like a happy wife. 

Grinning together, they quickly made their way upstairs to your hotel room, where you had some meals and beers all ready for them. 

They didn't know that you had laced it all with some sleeping herbs. 

As the three of you dug into your food, you asked them where they had gone all day. 

"An old friend asked me to get a relative out of that cult, you know, the Chelonians."

"Did it pay well?" you asked, knowing full well that Mary wouldn't have given them anything. 

Arthur shook his head. "Just did it as a favor. 

"We found some poor idiots to rob on the way back, so it wasn't a total loss," Thorne added. 

You laughed. "Tell me more about these Chelonians."

***

After regaling you about how they talked about turtles for half an hour just to get the cult to lower their guard long enough to get the young man named Jaime out of there, you noticed that their heads were starting to nod off. 

"More beer, boys?" you asked, pulling out two more bottles from the bag you had brought with you. 

"Sure," Arthur slurred. 

Turning away from them, you pulled out the sprig of the sleeping herb that you had been steeping in the beer and brought the bottles to them. 

They drank and told you more stories. With each passing minute, their speech stumbled, their movements slowed, their eyes blinked more in an attempt to stay awake. 

Then they closed their eyes and fell asleep in their chairs.

You grinned. It was time to work. 

***

“Wh.. what happened?”

“That li’l minx...”

Thorne and Arthur were both surprised and a little confused to the scene they had awoken to. The last thing they remembered was you giving them another drink.

You had tied them to their chairs and waited for them to come around. And now... now the fun was going to begin.

“Hello boys,” you purred as you walked around them, your hips swinging as you brushed your hand along each of their shoulders.

“Darlin’...” Arthur said as he tried to reach out for you, before he realized with a frown and a confused grunt that he was securely tied to his chair.

“Let us go,” Thorne snarled softly, already pulling at his ropes.

“Hmmm.... no. I think I’ll just take care of myself tonight, and you two just be good and watch.” You simpered at them as you dragged hands along your body, making exaggerated sounds of pleasure. “Oooh, I’m starting to get wet.”

You laughed as you watched them struggle. “This is what happens when you don’t tell me you’re going somewhere. This is what happens when I wake up alone with just a note saying ‘we’ll return at sundown.’” You reached up and fondled your breasts with one hand as you continued to walk around them. “I can take care of myself too, you know.”

With both of them looking at you in rapt attention, you started to slowly remove your clothing. As your shirt and chemise started to slide off your shoulders and to the floor, the men’s eyes followed your every movement, their pants growing tighter as they strained in their ropes. In a moment of complete uninhibited madness, you bent over and flipped your skirt up, waving your derriere in front of them as you slid your drawers off.

“You’re askin’ fer it,” Thorne growled.

Saying nothing, you just turned around and smiled at him before removing your skirt, letting it drop to the floor. Dressed in only your stockings and boots, you kicked off your boots before walking up to Thorne, putting one foot up on his knee, showing off your legs. He stared, breathing heavily as you slowly rolled the stocking down. Removing it and tossing it into your pile of clothes, you stepped down and turned away, giving him a perfect view of your ass while you put your foot up on Arthur’s knee and did the same thing. 

“You were bad today, weren’t you?” you cooed at him as you threw your other stocking into the pile with a bit of anger. “You didn’t tell me where you went.”

Arthur’s eyes pleaded with you. “Didn’t think you needed to know, darlin’,” he rasped.

Lightly pressing your foot against his balls, he groaned. 

“You didn’t think,” you retorted, moving away from him. “Neither of you did.”

Moving to the bed, you sat down at the edge facing them and spread your legs. “Now you get to watch while I take care of myself, and you two can just suffer.”

Sliding your fingers along your slit, you watched them as they watched you, and part of you started to truly enjoy yourself. You leaned your head back and moaned, letting your hips rise a bit, writhing on the bed as you started to get into it, feeling that delightful build-up of pleasure.

Then you heard wood snapping and you brought your head up. Watching in both fascination and anticipation, you felt your heart pound as Thorne broke his chair apart with sheer strength, quickly loosening the ropes around them. He turned his hungry gaze upon you, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He stalked towards you as he pulled open the fly of his jeans, quickly freeing his cock, stroking it with one hand as he reached for you with the other.

“Sweetheart...” he growled.

His hand wrapped around your neck as he pushed you down. Using his knee to spread your legs apart, he pressed his cock inside of you, not waiting another second. He sank in quickly, your wet channel inviting him inside, despite your annoyance.

“Bastard,” you gritted out.

“I told you, you were askin’ fer it,” he rumbled as he started thrusting hard, giving you no chance to escape. His hand around your throat tightened slightly as he grabbed your ankle with his other hand to hold it high. As you mewled helplessly, you watched Thorne turn to Arthur with a wicked grin.

“Feelin' guilty, Arthur?” he taunted.

Arthur merely growled.

“You just sit there then.” Thorne turned back to you, letting go of your throat to grip your jaw, shaking your head slightly. “Looks like our little slut needs a good fuck.”

You moaned. You’d come to love Thorne’s dirty talk, the way he was so vulgar when he was balls deep inside of you. You loved the way his eyes lit up as he slammed into you, as if taking you was his greatest joy.

“Hear that? Hear how much she loves getting fucked?” Thorne sneered as he pounded you into the bed, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest. “Make sure he hears how much you love being my cock slut.”

You let out a strangled cry of pleasure as Thorne rutted into you faster, harder, the slapping of flesh filling the room.

The sound of a chair cracking and falling apart drew both of your attention.

Arthur stomped over, angry and horny. He promptly shoved Thorne out of the way before he bent over, grabbed you by the neck and kissed you passionately, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth as he took every last breath you had.

Thorne could only laugh. “Took ya long enough. Been wanting to stuff her beautiful mouth with my cock anyway.”

Arthur pulled away, grabbed you by the hips, and flipped you over, lifting you up so you could get your knees onto the bed. You could hear him unbuttoning his fly as Thorne climbed onto the bed, spreading his legs and stroking his cock.

“Come here, sweetness,” he coaxed. “Suck me off.”

You leaned down and took his hard shaft into your mouth, the salty bitterness of the beginning of his spend filling your mouth. Bobbing your head up and down, you wrapped one hand around his thick girth, using your other hand to massage his balls just the way he liked it. You were rewarded with a low groan and his hands tangling in your hair, pulling gently as his hips twitched slightly upwards.

“So good, goddamn,” he growled as he leaned his head back and let out a shuddering sigh of pleasure.

Arthur’s hands gripped your hips once more as he guided himself inside of you. You moaned around Thorne’s cock in your mouth as Arthur pushed in until his hips were flush with your ass. Leaning forward, she kissed your shoulder, giving you a teasing nip and a lick before standing upright again. His hips drew back and then snapped forward, making you squeal in surprised before he started to fuck you in earnest; his raging lust would not be denied this night.

“Darlin’, yer the only one fer us,” Arthur said between thrusts, grabbing your upper arms and pulling you towards him, making you arch your back. This position made your breasts thrust forward and bounce as he took you like a wolf in heat, his hips unable to stop, his breath ragged with exertion.

You saw Thorne smile, his eyes taking in the sight of you above him, your tits bouncing so beautifully, your moans music to his ears. He stroked his cock as he watched you getting rammed from behind, his eyes burning with lust.

“That’s it, moan for us, our little slut,” Thorne said with a low voice. “You love how our cocks fill you up, hm? Can’t get enough of us, can ya?”

“Oh lord, can’t get enough,” you keened, your body fully in rhythm with Arthur’s thrusts.

“Tell him how much you need him,” Thorne ordered.

You turned your head to look at Arthur. His face was contorted with passion, sweat dripping off his brow as he moaned quietly. Catching your eyes, he grinned as he reached down and rubbed your core.

“I need you Arthur,” you pleaded. “Need you to spend in me, please!”

“Oh darlin’, oh fuck,” he gasped as he suddenly came, your words triggering his release like nothing else. He held you tight to his chest as he thrust as hard as ever, his cock spilling deep inside of you as he continued to rub your clit, making you quake in his arms. The feeling of his spend filling you, so much that it was spilling out, made your pleasure hit its limit. You let out a cry as you released, your body shaking from the euphoria flashing through your body. 

Murmuring your name over and over into your ear as he came down from his high, Arthur shuddered and let his cock slowly slide from you, his spend dripping down your thigh as he took a step back and let out a shaky breath.

“My turn,” Thorne said, catching you as you fell into his lap, and he lifted you up and dropped you onto his fully erect manhood.

“Oh lord!” you cried out. 

Wasting no time, Thorne started to piston up into you, bouncing you on his cock with the strength of his hips. You watched Arthur lay on the bed and watch as you were made into Thorne’s plaything, his hands on your hips manipulating your speed and your angle as he wished. 

“Such a good sex doll,” he purred as he sped up. “Goin’ to fill you up, sweetness, you ready?”

“Always,” you breathed. 

“Good girl,” he moaned. “Now take it, take my spend.” His hips thrust up once, twice, then one last time as he held your hips flush to his, his cock pulsing inside of you as he released. He leaned his head back, panting as he filled you up, letting out a sigh and a grunt as he finished.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said shakily. “You really are the best woman in the world.”

You grinned. “Don’t forget that, especially when you think you can do something without telling me. Without trusting me.”

Arthur reached for you, pulling you off Thorne and draping you over his body. His arms went around you and held you close. “I’m sorry darlin’. We… I should’ve told you. Should’ve trusted you.”

Thorne rolled over to his side and languidly stroked your back. “And I shoulda told him not to be a dumbass.”

You giggled at Arthur’s look of annoyance. Then you raised yourself up, resting your forearms on Arthur’s chest. Staring him straight in his beautiful eyes, you said with no room for argument, “Tell me who the woman was you met today.”

Arthur sighed. “A long time ago, I was courtin’ a lady, Mary. I asked her to marry me, I was so taken with her.”

Thorne interrupted. “But she didn’t like me none, and she didn’t like gettin’ her hands dirty. So I tricked her, invited her out to dinner instead of Arthur, and called her out on her bullshit.”

“I was so mad, but when I saw the two o’ them, glarin’ at each other at the restaurant, I thought, did I really know Mary, or was she just showin’ me one side of her? So I took her aside, and we got to talkin’, and she finally said what I knew in my heart, just didn’t want to admit.”

“She wanted to take Arthur away, separate him from his family. From me.”

“So I let her go.”

Arthur’s look of pain made you feel a bit bad about tricking them. Emotions were difficult to deal with; you understood that, even as you burned with your own.

Thorne snorted. “She didn’t want you anyway, Arthur. She wanted the idea of you.”

“Don’t mean you hafta be rude.”

“For what she put you through? I’ll be as rude as I like.”

Arthur sighed. “Fine. She’s history, anyway.” He smiled gently at you, cupping your cheek with his warm hand. “We have someone who accepts both of us, and that’s worth more than gold”

Thorne scooted closer and pulled you off of Arthur’s chest, sandwiching you between the two of them. “The finest lady that ever was,” he said reverently as he kissed your shoulder.

You smiled as you snuggled against their big bodies, feeling safe, warm, and loved.

--------------------

End Notes: Just imagining this got me all hot and bothered! I hope you enjoyed this story too, thanks for reading!

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, tails89!

For @tails89. I had so much fun writing this! The only explicit part is near the end, and I had a lot of fun writing our two boys being so adorably clueless while the rest of the pack, well…you know. Hope you enjoy your gift!

Read On AO3

*****

Unexpected Gifts

Chapter 1 - It Starts With Christmas Decorations

Stiles balanced precariously on the ladder, adjusting the garland that he was strategically placing in the center of the doorway. Sure, Derek claimed he wasn’t in the holiday spirit, but that didn’t mean that he had to pull the fun out of it for everyone else in the pack. This was their first Christmas where there wasn’t something trying to kill them, so he was taking advantage of it, gosh darn it!

Well, sure it was only a few days before Thanksgiving, but Stiles was planning on enjoying the holidays early, so to hell with Derek and his Grinch and Scrooge-like attitude.

He heard a snort and looked down and saw Erica looking up at him, a smirk on her perfectly red lips as she emerged from the kitchen with a bag of chips in her hand.

“Derek know what you’re doing?” she asked, an eyebrow arched, and Stiles replied, “Nope! And you’re not gonna tell him. He’s not back until eight,” he added as he got down from the ladder, “Which means we have three hours to get this place put into shape.”

She snorted.

“Yeah, because I was planning on sharing a grave with you. Nothing doing, Riding Hood,” she said, and Stiles rolled his eyes at hearing her nickname for him. “If you’re gonna decorate the house, I’ll let you live with the bodily harm that follows.”

He glared at her as he moved the ladder over to another doorway and picked up another sprig of mistletoe and, as he ascended the ladder, said, “He’d never hurt me, I’m not one of you. You guys heal, I don’t, so I think I’m pretty safe from anything he might want to do to me,” and she laughed and said, “Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that,” and then wandered into the living room, while he stuck his tongue out at her back as she walked away.

He went back to decorating, fully annoyed that none of the pack was offering to help him. Instead, they had all piled onto the couch and the floor in front of the couch and were watching some sort of horror film that they were giggling at, and then throwing chips and popcorn at the tv when they saw inaccuracies.

Stiles rolled his eyes as Isaac burrowed into his head into Erica’s shoulder, who patted him on the back reassuringly while she was sprawled on top of Boyd.

Scott, Liam, Allison, Lydia, and Jackson were all on the floor, Liam in the middle of the two couples, his feet in Lydia’s lap and his head on Allison’s thighs, looking the most bored out of the five of them. Stiles smiled at seeing them being nice to their newest member. He’d showed up in town about six months before, and now it was as if he had always been a part of the pack and it was nice to see Jackson being nice to the newbie, as well as everyone else. For some reason, Jackson was remarkably protective of the youngest member of their pack, and everyone found it amusing.

Right at that moment, however, Stiles noticed that even though Jackson had one arm around his girlfriend’s waist, his other free hand lingered on Liam’s ankle, his thumb absently stroking back and forth.

Stiles grinned and then slowly got down from the ladder as he heard the front door open.

“You’re cleaning up all the food you threw at the tv!” Derek yelled as he kicked the door closed behind him, “I can smell the popcorn and chips!”, and then he walked into the living room…and he froze.

He watched Derek’s eyes as they scanned around the room, the bag with four two-liters of soda in it hanging forgotten on one arm, his phone in his hand, his thumb stopped mid-scroll of something that he’d been looking at as he’d walked into the house, and he watched as the alpha eventually brought his gaze full circle back to him. He threw out his arms and smiled brightly.

“Whaddaya think, big guy? Isn’t it great?” he said, unable to keep the glee from his words.

Derek was silent.

In the middle of the silence there was the sound of a saw buzzing on the screen and then the sound of someone screaming as a limb was cut off in a spray of blood and guts, and Stiles could feel the nervousness settling in. Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have gone and decorated so impulsively, but he knew that if he’d tried to get permission, it never would have happened, so he hadn’t had a choice.

And then, from the corner of the couch, Scott said, “We told him not to do it, Derek. None of us helped, we swear!” and Stiles shot a murderous glare at him.

He then looked back at Derek, who had finally closed his mouth.

But then he said…

“It looks nice, Stiles. Thanks.”

And then disappeared down the hall to the kitchen, while the pack looked on in shock. Feeling triumphant, Stiles pumped his arm in the air, did a little jump, and then shouted, “Boo yah! Told ya, bitches! I’m untouchable and he liked it!”

Lydia muttered something under her breath that Stiles couldn’t hear, but, of course, the rest of the pack could, and they all burst out into fits of laughter, and he was annoyed with them once more.

“Okay, seriously?” he groused, walking over and retrieving the ladder and folding it up. “You guys can’t keep doing that, you know! It’s very rude to those of us without superhuman hearing!”, but she simply rolled her eyes and looked up at him and said, “Sweetie, you are adorably clueless. Now, how about you go and help him with the rest of the groceries?”

He scoffed, opened his mouth to try and say something…but nothing came out, so he ducked out, not meeting anyone’s eyes, and then grabbed as many bags as he could, ignoring the eye roll that Derek sent in his direction as he walked into the kitchen, struggling with the bags, one of them nearly cutting off the circulation in his left arm. He got them onto the counter and then went to get a few more, but one glare from Derek kept him in the kitchen.

Derek came back a minute later with the rest of the bags, not even breaking a sweat and Stiles started to unpack them, saying, “Okay, fine, keep on showing off your werewolf strength, but you and I both know that if it wasn’t for me, you’d have been making two more trips.”

Derek snorted, as if amused, and the two of them finished unpacking all of the food.

The pack was currently staying at Derek’s house, which had been completely renovated and rebuilt over the past year, and every one of them had a bedroom. Except for Stiles, of course, who still lived at home with his dad, but he didn’t mind.

However, it still bothered him a little bit, considering not only had Allison moved in, her and Scott sharing a room, but Lydia had also moved in, sharing a room with Jackson on the second floor.

Erica and Boyd had their own attic bedroom, and Isaac and Liam were sharing a room as platonic roommates. Stiles had it on good authority, though, that Isaac regularly snuck over to Scott and Allison’s room, and Liam tended to disappear at night for several hours and had been seen sneaking out of Jackson and Lydia’s room in the wee hours of the morning. Stiles actually found it all rather adorable, though he wouldn’t lie and say that he didn’t feel a little bit left out of the pack.

Stiles was over as often as possible, of course, but he still felt the need to keep an eye on his dad. It was more instinct than anything else, but he trusted his gut instinct, because it had never steered him wrong, and he just had the feeling that his dad needed him at home for a little while longer.

Derek, as he was putting away the milk, suddenly asked, “So, are you coming over for Thanksgiving this year? Or are you going to spend it with your dad?”

Stiles stopped in the middle of putting away a box of mac and cheese and answered, “Uh, yeah, I, uh…hadn’t really thought about it. Dad’s schedule is kinda weird right now, what with them trying to hire a new deputy and all, and so…yeah. Dunno. I mean, I’d like to,” he stressed, not wanting to give the alpha the wrong impression, “But I’m not sure what it’s going to be like…”

His voice drifted, and then he quickly added, “Uh, what are you and the pack planning? I wasn’t aware that you guys had plans for it.”

Derek shrugged and kept on putting away, groceries, Stiles resuming it, as well.

“I thought I could convince them to celebrate. When…when mom was alive, we used to have a really huge meal, invite all the cousins, eat way too much food in the middle of the day, and then spend the rest of the day working it off by running around the property in our shifts. And then come back after to eat even more food,” he added with a faint smile on the corner of his lips, and Stiles briefly marveled at the fact that Derek was offering up such personal information about himself so easily.

Derek then coughed and said, “You know, something like that. I’ll have to spend an obscene amount of money to feed them all, but you know--”

“You actually have an obscene amount of money,” Stiles supplied, and Derek ducked his head as if embarrassed, but then nodded. “So, why don’t you spend it and go all out for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year?” Stiles goaded. “This is one of the few times of year where things quiet down, and it’s the first time in a long time that everyone is here at the same time. Let’s spoil ourselves.”

He gave Stiles a look, with that infamous eyebrow arch, but the look had no effect on him.

Instead, he said, “Not only can we have an awesome Thanksgiving, but we can go out and get special presents for everyone in the pack for Christmas. I’ll help you pick stuff out.”

Derek still seemed suspicious, but then let out a sigh, rolled his eyes, and said, “Alright. Fine.”

Yes!

--

The next day, Stiles got there nice and early and was amused when Lydia opened the door looking pissed off, still in her pajamas and growled out, “Get him out of here, Stiles. And don’t ever come by this early again,” and he slipped past her into the house, noticing that she was the only one not looking awake and that was how he discovered that Lydia Martin was not a morning person.

Derek appeared at the top of the stairs and Stiles swallowed.

He was wearing dark wash jeans that fit him just right and a dark gray henley that only emphasized the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist.

Stiles had a hunch that even if Derek wasn’t a werewolf, that he would still look as hot as he did right at that moment. He tried to ignore it as best he could and said, “Hey, uh, you ready to go?” and Derek nodded and replied, “Yeah, just let me grab my keys,” to which Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes and said, “Nuh uh. We’re taking my car, sourwolf. Your car won’t hold everything, and you know it.”

The werewolf gave him a look, to which Stiles responded, “Don’t give me the eyebrows of judgment,” and brushed past him and tossed back at him, “And bring a coat!”

Soon enough they were at the largest department store in Beacon Hills and Stiles was sticking close to Derek’s shoulder, a list in one hand, reading off what he had figured out so far in terms of gifts.

“Okay, I’ve a gift certificate for Allison, Lydia, and Erica to the new spa that just opened up. After saving the owner from that witch, they felt beholden to us, so I took shameless advantage of it,” he said. He then continued with, “…And I got Jackson one, too. I know him far too well,” at which Derek snorted. “I’m thinking about a new scarf for Isaac, some comic books for Scott, a notebook for Boyd, our little closet poet,” he couldn’t help but tease, “And Liam…well, I thought I could just give him cold hard cash. I don’t know him as well as I’d like to.”

Derek muttered as he fingered the edge of a sweater on a table, “He likes science fiction…”

Stiles stopped and gave him a look.

“And since when do you talk to Liam?” he prodded, slightly amused, but also curious, and Derek rolled his eyes and said, “I’m training him, remember? He spends a lot of time with me and Isaac, and I’ve gotten to know them pretty well. The two of them actually have a lot of the same interests,” he added, giving him a wry look, “So you might want to rethink the scarf.”

Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, please. Don’t make me buy more stuff. Unlike you, my budget is limited. Like, really really limited.”

But he made a note of it anyway on his list, and then skipped a couple steps ahead so that he was in front of Derek and put a hand on his chest to stop him and said, “So, what about you, big guy? What do you want for Christmas?”

He noted that Derek’s eyes widened slightly, and if it had been anyone else, they might not have noticed his surprise, but Stiles noticed it and wondered what it meant.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then finally answered, “Uh…I don’t know. I mean, for me, having the pack is good enough. I don’t…I don’t really need anything.”

While Stiles found it incredibly endearing and adorably sweet, he rolled his eyes and said, “As sweet as that is, which it totally is, don’t get me wrong…I didn’t ask you if you needed anything; I asked you what you wanted.  I mean, that’s a tall order, granted, considering the fact that you are loaded with money, have a perfect body, have a huge house, and a pack that completely and utterly adores you, even when you’re being a total grump, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not entitled to something fun and frivolous…”

At that, Derek chuckled and removed Stiles’ hand from his chest and said, “I’ll need to give it some thought,” but, again, Stiles felt like Derek was holding something back.

He decided not to push it, however, as he saw the slight tension in the older man’s jaw that told him that he was only a few words away from irritating him to death. Instead, he helped Derek put together his own list for the pack, and then they were off to the grocery store.

As soon as they were inside, Stiles couldn’t help but ask, “So, uh…why did Lydia beg me to get you out of the house? You being a grump again?”

Derek huffed and answered as he pulled out a cart from the front, “I didn’t exactly sleep well, so I was up kinda early and was working out--”

“Dude, you don’t need to work out,” Stiles interrupted, and Derek glared at him and finished, “--I was working out and dropped a weight. I woke up Lydia and she apparently can’t get back to sleep once she’s been woken up, so she’s been mad at me all morning for ruining her usual ten hours of sleep.”

Stiles snorted and nodded.

“Yep. That sounds like Lydia.”

The matter was dropped, and they started their heavy-duty grocery shop for Thanksgiving. Everything was going well, the two of them finding everything they needed for Thanksgiving, but when Derek started to reach for the frozen pies, Stiles slapped his hand away with an affronted look.

“Dude! We are not having frozen pie! This is Thanksgiving!”

“And I don’t bake,” Derek deadpanned back at him, once more reaching for the pie, but Stiles pulled his hand back a second time and scolded, “Maybe you don’t bake, sourwolf, but I do. Now, let me take us to the baking aisle, so you can see what real Polish desserts are all about. My grandmother taught me everything I know, and I’ll have you know that I am the best at it.”

Stiles felt smug as he led them to the right aisle, for once looking forward to cooking a pie and traditional Polish desserts for more than just himself and his dad.

He hadn’t actually had the chance over the past few holidays because there was usually some big and scary supernatural entity occupying their time, but now he had a unique chance to do something that he loved to do to show how much he cared about the people in his life: he would cook for them.

The rest of the shopping trip consisted of the two of them arguing over whether or not to get fresh ingredients, to whether they should get creamy or crunchy peanut butter (they ended up getting both), all the way to whether or not it was absolutely imperative that Stiles make the dough from scratch (he insisted that had to and finally managed to convince Derek to go along with it, so long as Derek was allowed to help choose which ingredients went into the faworkis; they picked blueberries and raspberries).

By the time they were back at the Jeep, Derek was carrying most of the bags while Stiles gave him an arched look as they put all the bags into the back, silently pointing out that taking the Jeep was the better idea, as there was no way that all of this would have fit in the cramped trunk of the Camaro.

As soon as they were home, they noticed that the pack was nowhere to be found.

Stiles read off the note that they’d taped to the fridge as Derek brought the bags into the kitchen.

““Got bored, headed to the lake to go for a swim. Be back whenever.” Gee, that’s real swell of them,” Stiles said, ripping it up, recognizing Scott’s handwriting. “How much you wanna bet that they scampered as soon as they heard the car on the road so that they wouldn’t have to help us with the groceries?”

Derek shot him a look as he brought in the last bag, to which Stiles replied, “Okay, fine, you brought in the groceries, but I’m the one who’s doing all the cooking, dude.”

At that, Derek countered, “I’m not completely inept in the kitchen, you know. I can handle a turkey and some stuffing.”

“Good,” Stiles shot back. “Then you can do the turkey and the stuffing. And I will somehow wrestle Liam and Isaac into helping with the potatoes, because I not going to peel all those potatoes by myself. Your pups can pull their weight in this little holiday endeavor.”

“What about the rest of the pack?” Derek asked, pulling out the food and putting it away. “You gonna wrangle them into helping, too?”

Stiles shook his head and remarked, “Nope. Scott can’t cook, for one, and for two, I know there is no way I am going to let them touch my food.” Derek arched an eyebrow at him. “Our food,” Stiles quickly corrected. “I just…I know that the rest of them have little to no self-control, besides maybe Allison and Lydia, but they’re not kitchen people. I have witnessed both of them burning food on multiple occasions. So,” he emphasized by waving around a frozen bag of vegetables, “I am going to take point on the cooking. And all the taste-testing, too.”

Derek seemed slightly amused by that.

Stiles brushed it off and decided to go ahead and start with laying out what he would need to make the dough for the faworkis. They would take a while to make, and it had been a few years since he’d made them, so he needed to brush up on his skills.

Derek threw a couple of frozen pizzas into the oven and not thirty minutes later, just as the pizzas were just coming out, they heard the thundering of steps on the front porch.

Pups were home.

Scott, Isaac, Liam, Boyd, and Jackson stumbled in first, still slightly damp and still in their swimming trunks, practically scrambling over each other to get to the pizza that Derek had put on the island, while Stiles watched in amusement as Derek tried to reprimand them, and then Allison, Erica, and Lydia came trailing behind them, the three of them completely dry and covered, and rolling their eyes at the boys. Just as they approached the counter, Stiles laughed as they all parted for Lydia, who deftly slipped between them and made enough space for the other two girls to slide in next to her, the three of them commandeering the stools, as well as forcing the guys to use the paper plates that Derek had put out for them.

They all started talking at once, and Stiles could tell that Derek was already getting a headache, so he quickly stepped in and shouted, “Yo! All of you shut it! You’re giving both of us a headache over here, only Derek’s too nice to say it. Too loud, capiché?”

Jackson merely snorted and rolled his eyes while Lydia arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, but everyone else looked properly reprimanded.

Derek then moved next to Stiles and said into his ear, “Thanks,” and Stiles shrugged and replied, “Anytime,” and patted his shoulder.

“Aww, look at that,” said Jackson from where he sat on the counter holding a slice of the meat lovers in one hand, “Mom and dad are co-parenting. It’s touching, really.”

Lydia pinched his knee and gave him another one of her signature looks and then said in a reassuring tone, though somehow still teasing them at the same time, “I think it’s sweet. Besides, they are the ones who made us dinner and are making Thanksgiving dinner, too, if I’m not mistaken,” she added, looking pointedly at the counter behind them that still had a few bags on the counter.

Liam looked up from his own food at that, gave a look at Boyd who was at his elbow, and then asked, “Wait, are you guys really making Thanksgiving dinner?”

Derek nodded, and Stiles said, “Derek’s doing the turkey and stuffing, and I’m doing the rest. Speaking of which, you and Isaac are helping me with the potatoes. I need someone to peel them, and you guys have the wolfie endurance for such an arduous task. And you’re the youngest.”

At his words, both Liam and Isaac groaned, but they didn’t put up a fight about it, and Stiles felt a small surge of confidence.

Things were falling into place.

Chapter 2 - Biting Off More Than He Could Chew...Literally and Figuratively

Okay, so maybe he had celebrated too soon, Stiles thought to himself as he scrambled to finish mashing the potatoes that Isaac and Liam had peeled for him. Dinner was supposed to be in ten hours, and though he had finished all of the vegetable dishes, he still had to finish the potatoes and then all of the faworkis, and he wasn’t sure that he could do it in time.

Derek already had the turkey all set up and ready to go and had premade the stuffing the night before and all it needed was to be reheated.

God, Stiles knew he shouldn’t have made such a big promise.

But he didn’t complain as he continued to mash the potatoes into oblivion, casting a quick glance over the recipe book, double checking that he had made enough for the entire pack. He had to practically quadrouple every recipe that said it could feed a family of six, because he knew how much each one of them really ate. And even though neither Allison nor Lydia were werewolves, he knew what they were like and knew that he had to make sure that there was enough food for them.

His shoulders were sore from all of the mashing, as he’d made an obscene amount of mashed potatoes, and he sighed in relief as he managed to finish mashing the last bowl. There were now five large bowls filled with mashed potatoes, and Stiles just prayed that it would be enough.

He threw it in the fridge and then turned his attention to the dessert. Faworkis. One of his favorite Polish desserts.

He pulled out the first bowl of dough that he had put into the fridge to rise and started to roll it out, and just as he started, Derek walked in.

He took a look around the kitchen and then said, “So…need some help?” and Stiles immediately answered, “Normally I would kick you out of the kitchen and not let you even touch them until I was finished with them, but right now, I could really use your help. Here,” he said, tossing an apron in Derek’s direction, “Put this on and take the other bowl of dough and just watch what I do and copy me, okay? I’ve got nine hours until they have to be done and I forgot how time consuming they can be.”

Derek seemed surprised but tied off the apron around his waist and Stiles couldn’t help but smile a little at seeing him in a bright green apron that said, “Kiss Me, I’m Irish”.

Stiles rolled out the dough and got to work, looking up every now and then to check on Derek.

At one point, he went over and gently adjusted Derek’s hands on the roller and said, “You’re doing good with pressure, but you need to keep it more even. Press down from the elbow through the wrist, not from the shoulders,” he corrected him, trying to ignore the faint heat that rose in his cheeks at feeling his hands fitting almost perfectly over the alpha’s.

Derek turned his head slightly, their mouths suddenly only an inch or two apart and breathed out, “Like this?”

Unable to trust himself to say anything, Stiles swallowed, nodded, and then quickly pulled back and went back to his side of the counter and proceeded to start to cut out the proper size pieces for rolling, the fruit in a bowl right next to him.

Derek followed his lead and Stiles smiled to himself as he saw him doing it almost expertly, easily picking up on what Stiles was doing. They didn’t say anything, but nothing needed to be said, and they had the background noises of the rest of the pack making a general ruckus around the house. Even though he didn’t have superhuman hearing like the rest of them, he could hear Erica and Isaac roughhousing in the living room, and the rest of the girls and Scott were just upstairs listening to some annoyingly peppy music.

He wasn’t sure about the rest of them, but it was enough to have him feeling a warmth in his chest at the domesticity of it all.

Of course, that was just wishful thinking on his part.

Stiles had had a crush on Derek for years, but he knew better than to think it was reciprocated. He knew that he was still part of the pack, but not quite the same as everyone else, he mused to himself as he grabbed the fruit and started to roll it inside the cut dough. He was an outlier of the pack, not really the same as the rest of them.

He knew that, and had been okay with it for a long time, but at the beginning of the year he’d thought that things were changing, and he remembered the last day that they’d worked together on the house--

--Derek rolled his eyes as he effortlessly lifted the massive front door and put it into place, saying, “You know, Stiles, you’re the only one who kept on showing up after the first week of renovations. This house is yours already,” but he shook his head and watched Derek’s shoulders bulge as he finally put the door down, and said, “Nah, not really. It’s for the pack, not me, big guy.”

The alpha shot him a look, his brow furrowed, but then shook his head and reached down and finished tightening the bolts and the hinges, making sure that everything was secure.

“I mean it. You’ve worked harder than any of them to make my house a home again.” He then stood back and up and moved over to Stiles’ side, putting a hand on his shoulder. “This is yours, too. Ours.”

He was taken aback by the sheer intensity and honesty in the man’s eyes, so Stiles licked his lips and swallowed.

“Uh…thanks? I think? I mean,” he quickly broke the tension, “If you’re just saying this to put my name on the deed and make me pay for utilities, nice try, Der.”

Derek chuckled, patted him one more time, and then turned and headed back into the house for the shop vac to clean up what was left of the sawdust on the first floor, and Stiles watched his back as he retreated, swallowing a second time, unsure of what Derek was trying to say, because it had felt like he was trying to say something without actually saying it.

By the time they were done cleaning the house, Derek seemed back to his old self and Stiles felt like they were once more where they had been when they had first started working on the house together. It was nice and reassuring and familiar…but then as they stood outside admiring the finished work, Derek shoved his shoulder against Stiles’, as if trying to throw him off balance, and Stiles shoved him right back, which, of course, had no effect, as he was completely immovable.

“Dude, what was that for?” he asked, rubbing his sore shoulder.

Derek shrugged.

“Dunno. Just felt like it.”

And then he gave him one of those almost, not-quite-a-smile looks, and Stiles just shook his head. He’d never understand why Derek did half the things he did, but he was glad that Derek thought of him as part of the pack, even though he hadn’t built him a room. Stiles was still a bit steamed about that.

Derek then said, “It’s yours and mine, Stiles. C’mon, let’s carve our names on the inside of the door, between the hinges,” and he walked back up the porch dragging Stiles by the wrist behind him, which he found slightly amusing. He followed him up to the door and watched as Derek opened it all the way and revealed where the hinges came together, and then popped a claw and carved his name, Derek James Hale. He then looked up at Stiles and arched an eyebrow and handed him a pocketknife. “Your turn.”

Stiles arched an eyebrow right back at him.

“You want my full name? Or just the abbreviation? Because if we’re talking full name, then you might wanna take a seat, it’s gonna be awhile,” and Derek just rolled his eyes at him.

“Just do it, Stiles.”

Grinning, he took the knife and managed to get his full name into the wood between two of the other hinges and smiled when he was done. Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski.

Derek came over and looked at it, and then took back his pocketknife and said, “Hope you didn’t wear down the blade,” and Stiles made a face at him, they both chuckled, and then Stiles was once more taken off guard when the alpha traced his fingers over where Stiles had carved his name. Not knowing why, Stiles did the same to Derek’s name.

And then Derek said, “There. It’s ours. Always will be.”

Stiles smiled. He could live with that.

--

He came back to himself when he heard a loud crash from the other room, and Derek shouting out to them, “Erica, did you break another coffee table?”

“…No?” she called back, and Derek let out a frustrated sigh, digging his fingers into his dough in the process and Stiles quickly admonished him.

“Hey, hey! Pay attention, sour wolf! Don’t ruin the dough!”

He pulled his fingers out and rerolled the dough flat and then recut it, and Stiles was pleased to see that he did all of it correctly, even though he’d only done it once before, and suddenly had an image of a young Derek helping his mom in the kitchen baking cookies. He thought about asking him, even opened his mouth to do so, but then thought better of it and went back to working on the faworkis. He knew better than to ruin a moment, and so he’d ask some other time.

By the time they’d finished rolling all of the pastries and Stiles had brushed melted butter over every single one of them, they could hear a movie playing in the other room, the Avengers theme music coming through the wall.

Derek rolled his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose and said, “How many times are they going to watch that movie?” and Stiles quickly answered, “Oh, c’mon, Der, you know it’s one of the best movies out there. Oh, wait, I forgot,” he added sarcastically, “You’re a luddite who prefers to read than watch movies.”

Derek gave him a less than intimidating glare and said, “Just because I prefer books, that doesn’t make me anti-technology, Stiles.”

He gave Derek an arched look.

“But it does make you a nerd.”

“Says the guy who has Lord of the Rings figurines on his desk.”

Stiles scoffed.

“That is entirely a different thing, man,” he said, leaning on the counter and rolling his head on his shoulders, and Derek gave him a look that he couldn’t quite identify, almost fond…but it couldn’t be. Derek wasn’t fond of him, he was irritated by him, and that’s how it had always been. “Everyone knows that Lord of the Rings is cool, they just don’t want to admit it.”

Derek just gave him another look with his eyebrows and Stiles gave him a look right back, waggling his eyebrows as comically as possible.

Derek conceded the silent argument.

Stiles grinned.

--

It was a week until Christmas, and Stiles was scrambling. He’d gotten everyone’s presents but he was still struggling, trying to figure out what the hell to get Derek, which is why he was currently tucked between Lydia and Allison on the couch at Derek’s house, his feet in Lydia’s lap and his head in Allison’s lap, where she was playing with his hair. Lydia was using his legs to rest her notebook on. And Stiles…well, he was complaining for everything that he was worth.

“I don’t know what the hell to do, guys. He is impossible to buy for,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. “He has plenty of money, a new house, and all of you guys here, too.”

Lydia ignored him, making some more notes on something that she was working on for some thinktank that she was working with over the internet, but Allison paused in running her fingers through his hair and said, “Yeah, he’s kinda hard to buy for. But Scott and I decided to get him a gift card for a bookstore he really likes in town.”

Luckily, Derek was out for the day.

Unluckily, he was stuck with Allison and Lydia, who were the only two people at the house who knew the least about their enigmatic pack leader.

Thanksgiving had been a success, luckily, and there weren’t any leftovers, though all of the faworkis had been eaten that same day. Stiles had been a bit irritated by that, but the pack had reassured him that it was only because they were so good, so he’d promised to also make them for Christmas and had already enlisted Derek’s help once more, as he’d decided that he was going to have to triple that recipe.

He had been comfortable over the holiday and a few days after it, but over the past couple of weeks, things had gotten odd between him and Derek and he didn’t know why.

Correction: he did know why, but he just didn’t like to admit it.

It was stupid feeling awkward and off-kilter all just because Derek was suddenly being nice to him.

He mentioned it aloud, saying, “Have you noticed that he’s been really nice to me, lately? Like, he didn’t take my head off when I threatened to put mistletoe up around the house,” he said gesturing towards the ceiling with one hand. “You would think that would garner at least some sort of reaction, right?”

Allison kept on running her fingers through his hair, and she said, “Yeah, well, maybe it’s the holidays? We’ve never all been together for Christmas before, so maybe he’s just…you know, getting into the Christmas spirit.”

Stiles noticed Lydia’s eyebrow arch and the corner of her mouth twitch and he looked up at Allison just in time to see her also trying to hide a smile, and his mind flashed back to the pack on the couch a few days before Thanksgiving, as well as to the day they had come back from their swim. It was the same look.

Okay, something was definitely going on.

Sitting up, ignoring Lydia’s cry of protest as he dragged his feet from her legs, he said, “Okay, you two are conspiring about something, and I wanna know what it is. I mean, what’s going on here with the smiles and the looks and the, you know, general weirdness?” he asked, feeling his heartrate skyrocket. “Because if there is something going on here about Derek, then I deserve to know!”

They exchanged a look and Stiles recognized the glare that Lydia sent in Allison’s direction and suddenly had the insight that he wouldn’t be getting any answers from them. He knew what Lydia’s resolve was like when it came down to keeping secrets, so he knew that he would get nothing out of her, and he was well aware of the fact that Allison was painfully loyal when it came to keeping secrets for the greater good, so he had the vague impression that he wouldn’t be able to get her to talk as well.

Feeling frustrated, his flung his arms up as he got up from the couch and said as he stalked angrily to the front door, “Fine! Be that way! Don’t help!” and nearly slammed the door behind him, but then thought better of it and instead carefully closed it.

He was still annoyed as he leaned back against the door, but he was also just confused. He didn’t know what to do with a nice Derek Hale, or what to buy for him.

Just two days before, they had all been at the house and Boyd had suggested that they all go for a run in the preserve…but then Derek had told them to go on ahead and then had offered to stay behind with Stiles.

The teen had noticed that Derek had made an excuse that he had to get some work done, and the pack had all just seemed to accept it, but Stiles knew better than they did and could tell, even without any superhuman abilities, that the alpha had been lying. He had then spent the entire afternoon with Stiles not really doing anything at all.

Stiles had messed around on his phone for most of the time while Derek had sat on the couch with a book, reading.

Huh. Maybe something to do with books wasn’t a bad idea, he mused, thinking of the fact that Allison had mentioned that she and Scott had given him a gift card for a bookstore, and the fact that all that Derek seemed to do in his free time was read. But it couldn’t be as generic as that, he knew that much. If he was going to get the now less-than-surly alpha a decent Christmas present, then it would have to be something that meant something to him. Something that said that he cared for him and that he was paying attention to him.

Stiles knew all too well what it was like to receive presents that were generic because the person giving them didn’t know you as well as they felt they should.

Unfortunately, that had been the habit for quite a few years after his mom had died when he’d gotten a slew of generic Christmas gifts from his dad, ranging from a painting kit to a football.

He didn’t take any of it personally, because he knew that his dad had been hurting during that time, but he also knew that his dad had been trying a lot harder in the past few years and he knew how it felt to get a gift that was so unexpected and perfect. Just last year, his dad had gifted him a leather jacket with rune protection in it that he’d found from a verified wicca online. Stiles knew that it must have set his dad back a pretty penny, and it was now something that he wore almost constantly.

He needed to do something like that for Derek.

Lifting his head from where he’d been leaning it back against the front door that he and Derek had installed, he let out a long sigh and looked out towards the preserve.

He was going to get him something special.

Chapter 3 - Erica Is Grounded and It Sucks for Everyone

“Dude, I totally took you down!” Liam yelled at Jackson as they all made their way from the back yard into the house, while Stiles rolled his eyes. The wrestling had gotten heated and Jackson had been distracted because of Lydia’s low-cut top…and so Liam had managed to take him down at that perfect moment.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” drawled Jackson, cuffing the younger pack member on the back of his head, but Stiles saw a slight twitch of the corner of his mouth and he knew that Jackson was pleased with the kid’s progress.

Erica, who trailed behind them, groaned and pouted like an irreverent ten-year-old.

“Oh, god, I don’t care who took who down, I’m just pissed that Derek has banned me from training until I go and help him pick out a new coffee table!”

Everyone started laughing at that, and Scott was laughing so hard he nearly dropped Allison, who was perched on his back, her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, while Isaac almost tripped over his own feet. Lydia was already back inside, along with Derek, and Stiles knew that Boyd was still sleeping up in the attic room. The man seemed to live for sleep, which Stiles completely understood, and seemed to be more nocturnal than the rest of them.

Unable to help himself, Stiles said, “Yeah, well, that’s what you get for destroying your third coffee table this year,” and she lowly growled in the back of her throat at him.

He brushed it off and as they all stepped inside, they heard Derek shout, “Showers! Everyone who was training. Now.”

He pulled back just in time to avoid the mass stampede as they all bolted up the stairs. Despite all of the improvements to the house, there were only four bathrooms in the entire house, but because no one was allowed to use Derek’s private bathroom, technically there were only three, and so it was obvious that they were all trying to get first dibs.

Stiles’ suspicions were confirmed when he suddenly heard Scott yell, “Erica, you cheated! And you didn’t even train, so what the hell?!”

He snorted and made his way to the living room, where he saw Derek sprawled over the couch, one hand behind his head, the other holding a book. He snuck a quick look at the cover and smiled to himself when he realized that it was “Call of the Wild” by Jack London. It was kind of adorable that he was reading that book out of all the books that he owned.

“So, where’s Lydia?” he asked, settling himself down at the other end of the couch, noticing how Derek automatically shifted his feet so that he would have room to sit.

“In the other room on the computer. I think she’s doing some sort of online meeting,” he muttered, turning a page using just his thumb, eyes still focused on the book. “Something to do with statistics and number theory, I think. I don’t know,” he admitted, “I wasn’t really paying attention when she told me…”

Stiles just nodded and took advantage of Derek’s distraction and looked him over.

He was wearing a dark brown sweater that was about a size too big for him, a feat in and of itself, and his jeans seemed to be just as soft, worn out around the knees and the thighs, going white on the thighs with a small hole forming of the left knee, the frayed edges revealing skin underneath, and Stiles had the sudden urge to reach out and poke at it, but he withheld the impulse, and instead just swallowed and nodded, trying to remember why he had come to talk to Derek in the first place.

“So, I hear that you’re taking Erica to find a new coffee table?” he finally said, breaking the silence, using his elbow to gently jostle the man’s shin, and Derek nodded.

“Yep.”

Oh boy, an entire syllable.

He shoved Derek’s legs a bit harder, causing him to look up from his book, and then said, “Mind if I come with you guys? I don’t think I can take much more chaotic wolfie energy, today,” Stiles explained, giving him a look that he hoped looked begging enough. As much as he loved the pack, they could get to him rather badly sometimes.

Derek seemed pleased at his question and nodded and said, “Yeah, sure, not at all. Just, uh…let me finish these next couple chapters first?” He motioned with the book in his hand. “They’re gonna take a while getting clean, anyway,” he explained, tilting his chin toward the ceiling, “And it just so happens this is my favorite book.”

At that, Stiles arched his eyebrow and couldn’t help but say, “Favorite book? Are you serious? Could you be any more of a cliché right now?”, to which Derek rolled his eyes and playfully kicked at him with his foot, hitting his thigh, and said, “Hey, shut up. My mom used to read it to me as a kid and I, you know…I kind of fell in love with it.” He went a bit quiet and Stiles suddenly felt like an ass for making fun of him, but then Derek reassured him with, “Don’t worry, I know I’m a walking cliché. By the way, did Liam really get the drop on Jackson?”

Stiles nodded and grinned.

“Yeah, sure did. Of course, it helped that mister douche was distracted by the stunning decolletage of his girlfriend who was on the back porch at the time,” he lilted, tilting his head slightly and shooting a smirk in Derek’s direction.

The alpha chuckled, the two of them shared an amused look, and then Derek went back to reading.

Derek was right, Stiles thought to himself a little while later, realizing that it was taking the pack a long time to all get their showers. He stretched his neck and reached down and absently rubbed at Derek’s shins, which were currently draped over his thighs. It should have been awkward, but Stiles was used to the physical closeness of the rest of the pack, because they were always draping themselves over each other in completely platonic ways, even Jackson did it with him, and he thought nothing of it. Derek hadn’t done it up to this point, so far, but Stiles just chalked it up to the fact that Derek was finally relaxed for once and not thinking about it.

He adjusted himself on the couch and then closed his eyes, deciding that he might as well get a nap in while he could.

He didn’t know how long it lasted, but he heard a snort and what sounded like muffled laughter come from the entryway that separated the living room from the front foyer, and he opened his eyes and saw Erica standing there, fully dressed, smirking as she obviously took a picture with her phone.

“Oh, this is totally going into my blackmail folder,” she crowed, looking far too pleased with herself.

Confused, Stiles tried to figure out what she meant…and then realized that Derek had fallen asleep, his book across his chest, hand still tucked behind his head, his lower legs draped over Stiles’ thighs, and Stiles had been asleep as well, and he flushed, feeling the heat of embarrassment, but at the same time, he desperately wanted a copy of her photo.

Instead of snapping at her, he patted Derek’s calf and said, “Wake up, big guy. Time to go buy some furniture.”

Stiles had fully expected Derek to startle awake, so was pleasantly surprised when the alpha slowly came to, blinking and turning his head and then reaching both arms above his head and stretching, his sweater riding up and revealing a dark trail of hair that lead in a perfect line under his jeans.

Stiles ripped his eyes away.

“Okay, time to go shopping,” Derek said as he swung his legs down from Stiles lap as if it was nothing. “Stiles, you still coming?”

He swallowed and nodded. Yep. He was definitely doing some version of that word.

--

Shopping was hilariously awkward as they wandered through the furniture store looking like the three weirdest roommates ever trying to pick out a new coffee table.

Erica was wearing her usual leather mini skirt and jacket, along with her knee high boots, and was popping gum as she walked, acting for all the world like an irritated teenager-which she was-but Stiles could tell how disorienting it had to look when Derek was wearing sensible shoes, jeans, a t-shirt, and a cowled sweater with large buttons up the front, and Stiles was wearing his torn jeans, a shirt that was size too-small with a pink hippo on the front and a purple hoodie. Laundry day.

They walked through the store talking about what they wanted: Erica wanted something fun and modern, whereas Derek was trying to make sure that it matched the rest of the pieces in the house. Stiles’ only criteria was that it could withstand the roughhousing of werewolves in the living room.

“How about this one?” said Erica, bouncing on her toes and gesturing to a garish red and orange modern monstrosity, popping another bubble and arching an eyebrow, and at this point Stiles felt that she was picking out the worst pieces just to see Derek’s reactions to them.

He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest and growled, “Erica, at this point I think you’re just trying to piss me off.”

She grinned back at him, unrepentant, chewed her gum loudly, and then shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket, stuck her tongue out at him, and said, “Yes, that is exactly what I am doing, mister grumpy cat,” and Stiles couldn’t help but snort at that. Ever since they’d found that meme, Erica had delighted in teasing the older man with it. “I am sorry that I destroyed the coffee table, but did you have to punish me by taking me furniture shopping? I mean, I like shopping, but not this kind!”

Stiles could see Derek was about to say something that he was going to regret, so quickly cut him off and said, “Erica, c’mon, give the guy a break! Besides,” he added, “You know that it was your fault, so you might as well try and make it a little bit easier on him…”

She looked about to argue, stamping one of her heeled boots against the floor like a five-year-old about to have a temper tantrum…but then she rolled her eyes.

“Ugh…fine. Fine. I’ll take this more seriously, promise.”

Stiles shot a look over at Derek, who seemed less tense than before and smiled when Derek said, “Thank you. Now, since we’re having trouble finding one, why don’t we just ask one of the employees to help us find what we’re looking for?” She opened her mouth to protest, and Derek cut her off with, “Please, Erica. I don’t want to be doing this any more than you do.”

Stiles looked between the two of them, unsure if he was needed to mediate again, but let out a sigh of relief when she nodded and relented.

They looked around and sighed in relief when an employee approached them, as if sensing their distress, and the young woman said, “You look like you could use some help. Hi, I’m Liz,” she said, reaching out and shaking each of their hands, “And I’ve seen you look at several pieces already,” she admitted, looking slightly embarrassed, tucking a strand of hair behind her air, “But I’m pretty sure I know what you’re looking for. Something that fits with a craftsman style, but also caters to a modern aesthetic. And sturdy.”

Liz started walking and they followed after her. She then turned a corner and gestured with a hand.

“Something like this?”

Stiles looked at it. Solid legs and a thick top, which meant that it should hold up to the pack’s shenanigans.

He glanced over at Derek and Erica…and was pleased to seem them both nodding, and then Derek said, “We’ll take it,” and the sound he let out afterwards had Stiles walking over to him and nudging him with his shoulder, saying, “That bad, huh?” and Derek muttered back at him, “If I have to spend five more minutes in here, I am going to strangle her,” and Stiles laughed and absently reached up and squeezed his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, big guy,” he said, squeezing it a second time, not noticing the soft look Derek gave him as he slid his hand from his shoulder and turned back to Erica.

By the time they had paid for it, gotten it into the back of the truck that he’d borrowed from Peter, and gotten it home, Erica was antsy once more, looking as though she was about to explode from the car. As soon as the car slid to a stop outside the front door, she had bolted out of the back seat, and Derek yelled after her, “You break one more piece of furniture you forfeit Stiles’ faworkis for Christmas dinner!” and Stiles laughed when he saw her nearly trip over the top step as she tried to suddenly drop her speed.

Stiles then said, “I find it rather amusing that you threatened her with taking away my dessert,” to which Derek tilted his head and said, “Uh, I’m pretty sure that I made them, too.”

“Then why’d you call them mine?”

At that, he could have sworn that he saw a faint pink tinge to the man’s cheeks but was quickly distracted by Derek asking for his help in taking the coffee table out of the back of the borrowed truck. Derek held the brunt of the weight, angling down and back, and though Stiles wasn’t a werewolf, he was no slouch and easily helped him get it out of the back…but just as they maneuvered it to put it down, it slipped off the edge--

--and then it was falling down on top of him.

Just as it was about to hit him dead-on, Derek was there with his superhuman speed and stopped it from landing with it’s full weight with just one hand, the other hand on Stiles’ shoulder, moving him out of the way just in time. For a moment, he was shocked…and then Stiles giggled.

“Oh my god,” he said, falling even further into his laughter, “You just pulled a Twilight on me!”

Derek gave him a confused look, his brow furrowed in a way that was practically adorable, and Stiles explained, “You did what Edward does to save Bella in the very first book and movie, you know, with the car in the parking lot?”

…and then he kept on giggling, laying down on his back while Derek rolled his eyes and got the rest of the coffee table off the truck by himself.

Eventually, Stiles calmed down and said as he stood and wiped his hands on the back of his jeans, “My god, I can’t wait to tell the pack about this,” and Derek glared.

“Don’t you dare,” the alpha managed to get out in a tight voice, but it didn’t hold the usual biting tone, so Stiles knew that he could probably get away with telling the pack if he really wanted to, but he knew that he wouldn’t embarrass him that way.

Instead, he walked over and helped Derek take the table in through the front door, and as they put into place in front of the television, Liam and Isaac came in and immediately collapsed on the couch and put their feet up on it as they grabbed their gaming controllers and turned on the tv, while both Derek and Stiles gave them identical looks of annoyance.

And then they heard Lydia’s voice from the doorway, “My god, it’s like you’ve turned into our parents,” and Stiles looked up just in time to see her smirk and walk out of the room towards the kitchen.

Stiles rolled his eyes and stood up.

He shared a quick look with Derek, who gave him a faint smile in return, and felt a warm feeling in his chest. He didn’t really mind the comparison, to be honest.

--

It was the eve of Christmas Eve and Stiles was pleased with all of the presents that he’d managed to get under the tree that Jackson, Scott, and Boyd had hauled into the house. Okay, so it had been mostly Boyd, but he felt it was only fair to include the other two, as well, considering how much they had been pouting at not being asked to participate in any of the Christmas preparations. Derek had only reluctantly let them go and pick out and cut down the tree with Boyd because Stiles had pointed it out to him that they felt left out.

“Because they cause disaster, Stiles,” Derek had argued with him. “I’ve never met two people who attract more problems than they do!”

Stiles had immediately countered with, “Then let’s use that destructive tendency to help get us a good tree!”

Derek had conceded, and now Stiles was pleased to see that Liam had taken the initiative to decorate the tree, wrangling in Allison and Erica, as well as Isaac, to help him. Erica was sitting on the floor with Allison, who was stringing popcorn…while Erica kept on eating the pieces.

“Stop it!” Allison reprimanded, batting at the blonde’s hand, giving her a hard look. “I’m working really hard at this! Do you think that you could not eat the decorations?”

Erica playfully nudged her back, but stopped momentarily, though still sneaking a bite or two, while Isaac and Liam were busy placing ornaments on the tree. Stiles lounged on the couch, tired after dealing with the last of the decorations on the front porch. He watched them with a fond look and cast a casual glance at the ornaments they were using. He’d never seen them before, but it was obvious that they weren’t new.

Curious, he asked, “Hey, where’d you get those?”

“We found them down in the storage section of the basement, in the section that wasn’t burned,” Liam answered. “I think they used to be the Hale’s family ornaments. We thought it would be nice for Derek,” he added with a slightly unsure smile, and Stiles gave him a nod and said, “That’s a nice thought.”

As if he’d just given them permission, the two of them started putting on the ornaments more quickly and Erica had finally stopped eating the popcorn. Boyd was upstairs napping again, Scott and Jackson were out in the back, training, Lydia was upstairs on some sort of conference call with her thinktank, again, and Derek was back in the living room, once more, reading. As he thought of Derek, he smiled to himself thinking about the gift he’d gotten for him that he’d hidden under the tree. It had been a bit tricky to find and it had only showed up the day before. He’d managed to hide it from everyone and wrapped it up in festive green and gold wrapping paper and couldn’t wait to see the alpha unwrap it.

Isaac had put on some sort of Christmas playlist from the Spotify app on his phone and the faint music was enough to eventually lull him into a light doze, where he wasn’t really asleep, but he wasn’t awake, either, and it felt surprisingly pleasant and relaxed.

However, just as he started to drift from his light doze into an actual sleep, Derek’s voice rang out.

“Going out for a bit, guys. Don’t call me for anything!” he shouted, so that the entire house could hear him, as well as Scott and Jackson out back, and then the front door slammed behind him.

Stiles sat up and looked at the door, trying to figure out what was going on. Derek had been doing that off and on for the past few weeks, and he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. The alpha had been leaving the house at around four in the afternoon between two to three times a week, but never on the same days, and he hadn’t told anyone about what he was doing.

Stiles was pretty sure that no one had asked him because they knew that he would just glare at them and not give them an answer.

No one else seemed bothered by it, so he ignored it for the time being and instead decided that he would start on some of the food for Christmas dinner, as well as the faworkis for dessert. This time, he’d also gotten everything he needed for making szarlotka, piernik, and makowiec. He’d shown the recipes to Derek and then the girls had come into the room, seen the pictures, and insisted that Stiles make all of them for Christmas. Normally he would have complained, but he was actually enjoying baking for people that would appreciate it.

Within a few hours, the entire house was smelling like almonds, honey, and oranges as he had the first batch of makowiec in the top oven. Members of the pack had kept on trying to come in and steal bits and pieces of the dough as he was working, and he’d had to chase them all off with the threat of slipping mistletoe into their food.

When Derek came home, however, he sidled up right next to Stiles in the kitchen and practically put his head on Stiles’ shoulder as he stirred a batch of piernik in a bowl and said, “It all smells really good. I could smell it as soon as I turned off the main road,” and Stiles withheld a shiver at the breath that brushed across his jaw and cheek.

“You, uh…wanna try a bite?” he asked, licking his lips, and Derek nodded.

“Yeah, sure.”

Stiles lifted his hand, holding the spoon up high enough for Derek to grab, but was taken aback when he just leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the end of the spoon, and seemed to take entirely far too long before letting go of it with a slight pop. He then chewed a moment, swallowed, and said, “That tastes just as good as it smells. What is it…ginger?”

Stiles nodded, swallowing around his suddenly dry throat, and the alpha nodded and then lightly tapped his shoulder with his hand.

“Hope you’re making enough.”

At that, Stiles came out of his odd trance and scoffed and said, “But of course, sourwolf. I haven’t baked this much in years, and I’m actually really liking the excuse to make as much as I want, knowing that it won’t go to waste. It’s nice keeping up an old family tradition,” he remarked, and saw Derek’s eyes go slightly dark at his words.

The older man then nodded a second time and let out an odd sigh as he said, “Yeah. Tradition,” and then walked out of the kitchen, into the living room.

And then Stiles heard him gasp.

Quickly, he grabbed a hand towel and headed for the living room, wiping off his hands as he walked through the door, and then saw why Derek had reacted the way that he had: the tree was fully decorated with popcorn, lights, and ornaments on almost every branch, along with a beautifully hand-made paper mâché star perched firmly on top of it, as well as a few more presents under its branches.

“Oh, yeah, they pulled out some decorations from the attic,” Stiles said, walking up until he was shoulder to shoulder with the taciturn alpha. “Erica kept on eating the popcorn, so it took them a little bit longer than expected, but I think it came out pretty good, don’t you?” he said, gently nudging him in the side with his elbow, wondering why Derek was still so quiet, but when he turned his head to look at him, he saw his eye’s were glistening, like he was holding back tears.

“Der? Are you okay?” he quickly asked, throwing the towel over his shoulder, and reaching out to him.

Derek shook his head, one tear escaping, which he quickly reached up to wipe away with his thumb, and said, “Sorry, I just…I haven’t seen those ornaments since…since the last Christmas before the fire. I didn’t know that so many of them had survived. I just…I assumed they hadn’t.”

“Liam said they found them in a part of the basement that had been untouched,” he explained, and Derek nodded.

“I, uh…I guess that makes sense,” he managed to get out, his voice still sounding tight. “I just…I haven’t really celebrated Christmas for the past few years. Not since, you know…”

His voice drifted and Stiles nodded, knowing that he was referring to the fire. The two of them stood there for a long while, enjoying the sight, and Stiles knew that Derek was probably going through a gamut of emotions. He had a lot of memories, most of them bad, that surrounded the holiday, though Stiles hoped that this year would be the year of changing his mind about how he felt about it. Especially with the gift that he had picked out for him, Stiles thought to himself.

He snuck a glance at the alpha’s profile.

He wasn’t crying anymore, and his serious expression had softened into something more thoughtful and reflective. Stiles wondered what he was thinking about and thought about asking but decided against it and simply stood there with him.

The silence, along with the smell of pastries floating through the house, made it a moment that Stiles knew he would remember.

Chapter 4 - What It Looks Like When You Don't Know How to Give Presents

The next day, Christmas Eve, the entire pack was outside making a mess of themselves.

It had unexpectedly snowed last night, dropping a solid eight inches of powder, and so the pack was taking full advantage of it…and it was hilarious. Stiles was glad that he had his phone out because he was getting golden footage of them going after each other in some of the most unexpected ways.

Stiles laughed as Allison nailed Boyd in the face with a snowball and Lydia managed to surprise Scott and dump a handful of snow down the back of his sweater.

Derek was up on the porch with him, a mug of hot chocolate in his hands, watching the spectacle with an arched eyebrow and giving Stiles an amused side-eye as he continued to take video, as well as the occasional picture.

“Dude! What the hell was that?” barked out Jackson as Isaac nailed him in the neck with a snowball.

“It’s called payback for stealing my game last night!” he barked back at him, but then Isaac was tackled from behind by Erica, who seemed to be trying to tackle everyone, and had already gotten to Liam, Scott, Allison, Lydia, and now Isaac. She only had Jackson and Boyd to go, but Stiles had the sneaking suspicion that she wouldn’t be able to get the drop on her boyfriend, who seemed to be rolling his eyes each time she got the drop on someone new, while looking fondly at her at the same time.

Scott kept on yelling up at Stiles.

“Seriously, man! Put down the phone and get down here!” he yelled for probably the fourth time, but Stiles rolled his eyes and shouted back at him, “Dude, no! One, I don’t have my winter gear with me, and two, unlike the rest of you, excluding Allison and Lydia, of course, you all have wolfie powers and I’m not planning on getting my ass handed to me!”

Scott groaned, but then was suddenly tackled for the second time by Erica who had used the distraction of the two of them yelling to sneak up on him again and faceplant him in the snow, sprawled over his back, and she howled out her victory.

Stiles then noticed that all the wolves were wearing were long pants and t-shirts, versus the two girls who were bundled up in boots, leggings, and thick winter coats, hats, and gloves.

The disparity was rather amusing, but Stiles also found it interesting as he saw the snow melting on their arms and faces almost immediately. He tended to forget just how warm the rest of the wolves ran, and that had him glancing back over at Derek, who was lounging on the porch swing in his jeans, thick slippers, and, once more, his brown sweater. He wondered how cold the man really was, and if the sweater was really necessary for him.

“Hey, there, Der…you actually cold?” he asked, moving over to sit next to him, and Derek moved over slightly, giving him more room.

The alpha shrugged.

“Not really, but I’m not like the rest of them. I was born a wolf so I actually handle the winters better than they will. Trust me when I say that they’ll be freezing their asses off in about ten minutes, whereas I’m going to be at a perfectly maintained temperature,” he said with an amused tilt of his brow. “The rest of the winter you’re going to see them going from one extreme to the next. It’s tricky learning how to maintain a proper body heat with our accelerated metabolisms.”

Stiles nodded and couldn’t help but scoot closer, feeling the faint heat coming off of him, unable to keep himself from gravitating towards it.

Derek seemed to notice, because he adjusted his position so that his thigh was pressed firmly up against Stiles’ thigh, and Stiles unabashedly leaned into it…and then on impulse, he laid his head down on the alpha’s shoulder. He felt Derek tense for a moment, but then he completely relaxed.

“So…you’re snuggling me for the body heat?” Derek said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate and Stiles nodded.

“Yep. I’m a poor, helpless, cold human who is very cold but also very stubborn. I don’t want to go back inside to get a jacket,” he explained, “And since you’re a walking furnace, I might as well take advantage.”

Derek nodded, took another sip of his drink, swallowed, and then said, sounding amused, “This wouldn’t also have anything to do with using me as a shield to keep Erica from dragging you off the porch and tackling you in the snow would it?”

Stiles shook his head, flat out denying it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sourwolf.”

Derek just shook his head.

Luckily, he was right, and the rest of the pack was clambering up the stairs only ten minutes later, all of them shivering except for Boyd, and Lydia and Allison were the only ones out in the snow, and they had found an unmarred patch of snow and were making snow angels.

As the rest of them thundered into the house, Derek shouted, “Towels are just inside the door! Use them or I’ll have you mopping up your own mess!” and Stiles snorted when heard a chorus of groans and then several thuds as they jostled to get to the towels on the rack next to the front door.

Stiles moved his head from Derek’s shoulder and gave him a look and said, “My god, you are such a dad,” to which Derek rolled his eyes.

“I’m really not,” he said wearily, rolling his head on his neck, and Stiles shook his head.

“Nope. You’re really not convincing me. In fact,” he poked his arm, “You just did a classic dad move. You threatened them with more chores if they didn’t do what you asked them to. Only dads do that, man, trust me. My dad tried to pull that trick on me so many times. Didn’t really work in my case,” he begrudgingly admitted, “But that’s my fault, not his.”

Derek turned to look at him, their eyes locking…and then he asked him in a surprisingly soft voice, “Is…is being like a dad a bad thing?”

Stiles quickly reassured him.

“Dude, no! Not a bad thing at all, man.” He reached back over and patted him on the thigh. “If anything, it just proves to me that you’re a good alpha and know how to take care of your pack. Besides,” he added with a smug grin, “They listen to you, don’t they? And it’s not because of the threats, Der, it’s because they want to. They all look up to you, Derek. All of them. Even Jackson.”

At that, Derek chuckled and stretched his arms out in front of him, above his head, and then dropped them back down to his sides, his fingers curling around the edge of the porch swing and then levelled his eyes with Stiles’. He was disoriented for a moment, but then the man smiled.

“You know, this house wouldn’t have been finished without your help,” he said, sounding so sincere it threw Stiles off balance. “Thank you.”

Stiles nodded and swallowed.

“Yeah, no problem man. I enjoyed it, you know? You deserve to have a home again,” he hesitantly added, unsure if those were the right words, but they seemed to be, because Derek gave him another one of those smiles and nodded and then stood up and said, “C’mon, I know you still have to finish the desserts for tomorrow night. I’ll help.”

And they went back inside, Stiles certain that at one point he felt Derek’s fingers brush against his lower back…

--

Christmas morning was chaos.

Luckily, Derek had mandated that every single one of them had to wait for the entire pack to be there before they could start handing out presents. Stiles was still worn out from Christmas Eve, however, and had purposely stayed in bed until he absolutely had to get out of it and go downstairs. He’d stolen Isaac and Liam’s room, specifically Liam’s bed for the night, and Liam had spent the night in Lydia and Jackson’s room, while Isaac had been in Scott and Allison’s room.

When he finally dragged himself downstairs, he was pleased to see that he wasn’t the last one down. It looked like Boyd and Erica were still up in their room, which meant that he could join everyone else in opening their stockings. Speaking of stockings, the contents were strewn all over the rug and wooden floor, each one of them already eating pieces of chocolate, while Allison and Lydia were trading body lotions and sniffing each other’s wrists.

Stiles grabbed his knitted orange stocking and was surprised at the weight of it. He decided to join Derek on the couch, who looked like he was already worn out, and dig through it there.

Not thinking about it, he sat right next to the alpha, whose blue stocking laid between his thighs, ignoring the fact that there was still plenty of empty space where he could have chosen to sit.

He dug his fingers into the sock and the first thing he pulled out was a dark chocolate orange. Hell yes. He grinned like an idiot, wondering who had given it to him, and then pulled everything else out. There was an obscene amount of dark chocolate, milk chocolate, and some skittles and starbursts, as well. But there was something shoved into the toe. Something heavy.

He finally managed to get it out…and stared at it, trying to figure out what it could be. It was wrapped in plain, brown paper, with twine tied around it in a quaint little bow.

As he stared at it, he noticed Derek shifting next to him, and his eyes giving him a sideways glance.

Feeling like a little kid, Stiles shook it.

He shook it a couple more times, and then Derek rolled his eyes and said, “Okay, now you’re just making fun of it. C’mon, open it up. You’re allowed to, it was in your stocking,” he reasoned, and Stiles suddenly knew that whatever it was, it was definitely from the alpha, so he reluctantly tugged on the string and then carefully opened up the sides.

The rest of the pack was ignoring them, far too engrossed in their candy.

Stiles pulled off the paper and found a small box inside that looked suspiciously like a jewelry box. Okay, what the hell had Derek gotten him and why had he put it in his stocking and why was it in a jewelry box? Feeling a little bit weirded out, but also having sudden, inexplicable butterflies in his stomach, he flicked open the lock on the small box…and was slightly confused when he saw a simple key resting in the center of the box on a military chain. He lifted it from the box, took a long careful look at it, and then looked over at Derek.

“Uh…am I supposed to know what this is?” he asked, and Derek licked his lips.

He then answered, “It’s a key.”

“I see that, I’m not an idiot, Der. But what’s it to?” He waved it in front of his face. “Is it the key to life, the universe, and everything? Because that would be cool, you know,” and Derek rolled his eyes and drawled, “Just…look at what it says, you idiot.”

Confused, Stiles brought it up to his face for closer inspection and saw faint writing on one side of it that simply read ‘Our Room’. And he was even more confused.

He looked back up at Derek and gave him another befuddled look, but just as he opened his mouth to ask another question, Erica and Boyd finally walked in, Erica looking pissed that she was awake, running a hand over her face while Boyd looked like he was holding her by the waist just to make sure that she didn’t fall over, and everyone cheered, Scott yelling, “You made it!”

Liam was the first to say, “Thank god, now we can open presents,” and he lunged for the brightly wrapped packages under the tree and then it was chaos all over again as the presents were doled out.

Stiles was happy with what he got over all: a sweater from Lydia and Jackson, a new pair of slippers from Allison and Scott, a new PS4 game from Isaac, an online gift card from Boyd and Erica to his favorite, uh…adult toy store (thank you, Erica), and a rune pendant on a leather cord from Liam. Though nothing from Derek. He watched as they all opened their presents and was pleased when everyone seemed to have liked what he had gotten them…but he snuck a look over at Derek, who was still next to him on the couch, even though everyone else was on the floor except for the two of them, and noticed Derek was taking a lot longer with his gifts than anyone else because he was, like Stiles, watching everyone else.

It was almost painfully slow to watch when Derek finally opened each of his presents, as if he’d been waiting for everyone to be distracted by their own presents so they wouldn’t make a big deal out of his. Stiles was slightly disappointed in what most of the pack had given their leader.

He saw a pair of thick socks, the gift card that Allison had mentioned, a couple more gift cards, and a deep green scarf that was much nicer than anything else, and Stiles had a hunch that the scarf was from Lydia.

He noticed that Derek had saved his gift for last and he nervously licked his lips, biting at his lower one, unsure of how he would react to it.

Derek took just as much time unwrapping Stiles’ gift as he had the others…but Stiles smiled when he saw the slight sharp intake of breath as he saw the first glimpse of the title. And then he was taken off guard when Derek suddenly ripped the rest of the wrapping off and stared at it with wide eyes.

“This…this is…” He flipped the leather-bound book open to the first page. “A first edition?” he gasped out. “How…how the hell did you…?”

He left his question unfinished, moving his eyes up to lock onto Stiles’, mouth gaping, as if trying to find the right words, and so Stiles put him out of his misery and said, “I, uh, I used my prodigious researching skills to scour the internet and found a warlock willing to trade. He had an extensive book collection, I had some information from our bestiary he needed, so we, uh…did a trade. You, uh, you like it?” he asked, suddenly feeling shy, reaching up and running a hand through the back of his hair.

Derek nodded, obviously still unable to speak.

Lydia, of course, heard the words ‘first-edition’, and piped up, “First-edition of what? Oooh, looks expensive,” she leered, rising to her knees and leaning over to see the book in Derek’s hands.

Finally, Derek said, “It’s a first-edition, leather bound copy of Jack London’s ‘Call of the Wild’…it’s next to impossible to find anywhere. I know because I’ve looked,” he finished softly, tracing his fingers almost reverently over the embossed cover and Stiles felt a surge of confidence at seeing how happy Derek was with the gift he’d picked out for him.

“I’m just glad that you like it,” he said, and Derek looked back up at him and Stiles was taken aback by the sheer amount of emotion in his usually unreadable eyes.

Derek then nodded.

“I love it, Stiles. It’s perfect.”

He reached out with his free hand and wrapped it around the back of Stiles’ neck, like he would with one of the members of the pack, and the heat from his hand went straight through him, and Stiles felt like he had to catch his breath when Derek lightly squeezed, his thumb curling around to graze along Stiles’ jaw.

“Thank you, Stiles,” he breathed out, and he nodded back at him and said, “You’re welcome, Der.”

At that moment, all that he could feel was the two of them…but then the stillness was broken with Isaac groaning from his position on the floor next to the tree, saying, “God, please tell me that we already have breakfast food, because I am freaking starving,” and at that, simultaneously Derek dropped his hand and Allison reached down and patted Isaac’s shoulder and said, “Stiles made szarlotka, and we also have some pre-made cinnamon rolls,” and with that the entire pack seemed to move as one towards the kitchen, leaving Stiles and Derek behind.

Lydia, Allison, and Erica all threw him similar looks over their shoulders before disappearing into the kitchen, however, and Stiles wondered what that was all about. He ignored it, however, and instead turned back to Derek, who had gone back to admiring the book, gently thumbing through the pages and looking at the hand-colored illustrations.

“So, uh…care to explain the key thing, now?” Stiles hesitantly asked, and Derek looked up at him and swallowed.

“Uh, I thought it was kind of obvious,” he answered, looking confused himself.

Stiles shook his head and pulled the key back out of the box and said, “Not really. It just says ‘our room’ on the back of it and I don’t really know what that means. Did you have an extra room put onto the house for me and dad or something? Because I’m at a loss here…”

Derek shook his head.

“No, it’s…it’s a key to our room, Stiles. I’m finally making it official. I mean, after everything that’s happened, it seems only fair,” he said, acting as if he was explaining everything, while Stiles was still completely in the dark to what he was talking about.

Stiles was now the one shaking his head as he said, “Derek, I still don’t know what you’re talking about! Believe me, if I did, I wouldn’t be asking you all these questions! What the hell do you mean by “our” room? Why are you using phrases like ‘after everything’s that’s happened’, Der? I, god, I wish I knew what you were talking about, but I think you’re going to have to spell it out for me, because I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about!”

Derek slowly stood, his eyes wide, book in one hand, and then he took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

Finally, he said, “When we carved our names into the door. This house. It’s ours. It has been since we finished it, Stiles. I was waiting until I finished the arrangements to the room before I asked you to move in. I thought that because of how I’ve been around you the past few months…I thought you knew that…that…”

He didn’t finish the sentence and to Stiles it looked like he was trying to catch his breath, almost on the verge of an anxiety attack. He didn’t like being in the dark, but he disliked being the person who made Derek so upset, so he tried to put it all together. Okay, they’d finished the house together, marked their names in the door, Derek had been separating himself from the pack, had been spending more time with Stiles, had been treating him like an equal, he’d been letting Stiles lean against him, had been spending time with him in the kitchen and learning about stuff that Stiles liked to do, he’d been…oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Stiles suddenly felt like he couldn’t catch his own breath, and slowly stood, key still in hand, took a step closer to Derek and said, “Wait, are you telling me that ever since we finished the house together, you’ve been…courting me or something?”

Derek nodded and breathed out, “I thought you knew. I mean, you helped me take down the old door, the one that had my mom and dad’s names carved into the side, and so I thought, I thought that you knew exactly what it meant when we…when we did it, too. I don’t want anyone else by my side but you, Stiles. I never have.” He reached out and cupped Stiles’ face, drawing him one step closer to him. “I finished my room so that it would be our room,” he explained, his other hand going to Stiles’ hand that still held the key. “This is for you. It’s not my room, it’s our room, it was always meant to be our room…”

He thought he was about to faint and swayed into Derek’s touch and that caused him to suddenly step right into him, their bodies barely an inch apart, Derek’s arms supporting him as best he could, and Stiles dropped his forehead to Derek’s shoulder and muttered into his clavicle, “I fell in love with an idiot,” to which Derek snorted and patted him gently on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well, so did I, apparently.”

And at that, Stiles lifted his head from the alpha’s shoulder and caught his eyes with his own.

They stared at each other for a long time. Derek’s fingers played with the hair at the back of Stiles’ neck and Stiles hand now rested on the older man’s side. He didn’t know how long they stood there, but he didn’t want to move because it felt like a moment that he didn’t want to leave.

Unsure of what to say, he decided to say nothing.

And then Derek tilted his chin up with a single finger and suddenly their lips were touching, and Stiles was wondering why the hell they hadn’t ever done it before, because it was goddamn perfect. He moaned into the kiss, moving his hand so that it wrapped around the back of Derek’s neck and slid his fingers up into the alpha’s hair, letting out a low groan when he suddenly bit down onto Stiles’ lower lip. Ah, that was good. More than good.

He sunk into it for a while longer, both of them teasing the other, their tongues briefly flicking out to taste the other’s lips, as if not quite sure if they were ready to take it any further, but then Derek slid his hands down to Stiles’ waist and tugged him closer and, wow. Yeah. There was definitely something more there.

Stiles’ hips stuttered in his grasp and he pulled back to gasp for air and said, “Okay, so, uh, yeah…that happened,” and Derek let out a gasping chuckle and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Stiles’ mouth and said, “So, breakfast first and then spend the day up in our room? Or room first and then food?”

“Food first,” he answered without hesitation.

Derek arched an eyebrow at him and Stiles quickly explained, “If we don’t eat now, we’ll starve, because trust me when I say that once I get you into bed, I am not going to be letting you out,” and Derek laughed.

“Fair enough. Let’s go get some food.”

“If there’s anything left,” Stiles muttered under his breath, and Erica yelled back at them, having heard the two of them with her werewolf hearing, “Hey! I heard that! And we left plenty for you two love birds!”

Stiles felt his cheeks burning as they walked into the kitchen, where the rest of the pack was either around the table, the island, or were sitting on various surfaces, each one of them grinning like idiots at seeing the two of them walk hand in hand into the room.

Jackson looked down at their hands and rolled his eyes and drawled, “Oh, god, you two aren’t going to be the worst PDA couple ever, are you?” Lydia jabbed him in the side, and he grunted and corrected himself, saying in the least enthusiastic tone Stiles had ever heard, “I mean congratulations. Took you two long enough to figure it all out. God, if I had to keep pretending that I couldn’t smell the pheromones--”

“Tell me about it!” interrupted Liam, still chewing on his bite of szarlotka. He then swallowed and added, “Derek’s room is next to ours, by the way, and if you two are going to get up to stuff, then please, please,  get the room soundproofed,” he begged, and Stiles saw the tips of Derek’s ears go red and blushed himself when Derek replied, “Uh, I, uh…I already did that.”

Stiles suddenly couldn’t look a single member of the pack in the eye, but he eventually looked back up and saw that Allison had broken out into giggles and she was batting at Scott with one hand, who was sitting next to her and shaking from laughter in his chair, and Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little bit betrayed by his reaction, though he did find the humor in the situation, despite the sheer awkwardness of it and the fact that everyone was staring at them.

Erica shot Stiles a lascivious smile and said, “Well, looks like someone’s definitely getting lucky tonight!” even as Boyd shook his head and wrapped an arm around his girlfriend’s waist, letting out a long-suffering sigh as she then asked, “So, Stiles, I’m guessing you’re a catcher?”

Isaac scrunched up his face at that and said, “Oh, god, Erica, stop! Would you please stop?!”

Lydia finally spoke up from where she was leaning against her boyfriend’s shoulder and gave them both a soft smile and said, “If everyone could stop acting like ten-year-olds, I’d like to say that I am very happy for the two of you. Like Jackson said, it took you long enough.”

Finally, Stiles spoke up.

“Okay, everyone’s acting they’ve known about this for forever, so I need to clear something up: if you knew that Derek already liked me, raise your hand!” His tone was more irritated then he meant it to be, but it seemed to draw amusement from the rest of the pack, because they all exchanged looks…and then all their hands went up, and Stiles let go of Derek’s fingers to bury his face into his hands and then said, his voice slightly muffled, “How long? I mean, how long has it been?”

Surprisingly enough, Scott answered first.

“Oh, dude, since junior year, at least,” and Stiles dropped his hands and gaped. He looked at his friend for a long moment, and then looked back over at Derek who looked even more flustered than Stiles was, shoving his hands nervously into the front pockets of his sweatpants, avoiding eye contact.

Derek then finally looked back up at Stiles, and at seeing the questioning look in his eyes, he simply nodded.

“Yeah. Since your junior year.”

He looked at him a second longer, and then, mentally deciding screw it, he reached up with both hands and pulled Derek down into another kiss, this one softer and sweeter than their first one, and then murmured against his lips, “I’ve wanted you that long, too…god, we are idiots.”

“No argument there.”

Stiles swung his head up, shocked to hear Boyd, of all people, making a smart remark at their expense. He smirked back at the two of them as he grabbed another piece of szarlotka, pressed a kiss to Erica’s forehead, and then mumbled under his breath as he left the kitchen, “Goin’ back to bed,” while Stiles stared at his back in surprise.

He then looked at Erica, who shrugged at him and at the rest of the pack, all of them surprised by Boyd’s comment, and she said, “What? You do realize I fell in love with him for a reason, right? How the hell do you think he puts up with me? He’s even more judgmental than I am,” she explained, arching an eyebrow at them, “He just knows how to keep his mouth shut…”

She grabbed a cinnamon roll, popped it between her teeth, and then headed back towards the living room, where she’d left her stocking. Everyone just shook their heads and went back to their breakfasts, all of them seemingly over the fact that Derek and Stiles were now, somehow, together. Stiles was still feeling off-balance at the fact that Derek returned his feelings, but he was willing to accept it and move on. In fact, now that he thought back on it, they’d been acting like a couple for a while, and might have been (sort of) co-parenting the pack.

It was wonderful and Stiles smiled when Derek slipped an arm around his waist as he grabbed a piece of his own szarlotka, pleased with the apple flavor that burst over his tongue, wondering if Derek would be having any and how it would taste on his tongue…oh, boy. He felt a part of himself taking interest at the thought, so he quickly shut it down.

They went and sat at the table, Stiles moving towards one of the chairs, and was taken off guard when Derek suddenly pulled him onto his lap.

“Hey! What the hell--?”

Derek said nothing and simply pressed his nose into Stiles’ neck, causing him to let out a noise that he didn’t know he was capable of making, and Allison, who sat across from them, let out another giggle as Stiles attempted to struggle, but soon found it useless as the alpha held him fast in his unyielding arms.

“Okay, guess we’re moving straight from the awkward stage to the disgusting, overly-affectionate-couple-in-public-that-everyone-hates stage,” he muttered, making himself as comfortable as he could on Derek’s lap, taking another bite of his piece of szarlotka. “You gonna let me up off your lap anytime soon, sourwolf?”

Derek shook his head and pretty much nuzzled into him, tightening his hold on his waist and shoving his nose and lips down towards his exposed collarbone, breathing deeply, and even though Stiles acted like he was annoyed by it, the truth was that it made him feel loved and wanted. He had seen Scott do the same thing with Allison, as well as Isaac, and had seen it between Erica and Boyd fairly often, though the large beta was usually fairly discreet about it, and had seen Jackson do it with both Lydia and Liam, even though he’d tried to hide his affections towards Liam, all in vain.

It made Stiles feel like he finally had a place within the pack and he silently preened under the attention, ignoring the eyerolls sent in his direction from Jackson, who was still sitting on the edge of the counter, peeling apart a cinnamon roll, while Lydia rested between his thighs, her head on his chest, picking at a piece of piernik with her fingers, tearing off small bites.

Stiles then felt a surge of warmth in his chest when Derek moved his mouth behind his ear and breathed out, “Thank you for building this home with me, Stiles…”

He turned his head slightly and caught Derek’s gaze, and saw that his eyes were unguarded, completely open, and it just about took his breath away, but he managed to say back to him, “You’re welcome, Derek. You know that I love you, right? That that’s why I’ve stayed all these years?”

The alpha’s mouth dropped open and he licked his lips.

“I love you, too.”

It was nice to hear the words, though he knew that he didn’t need them because he knew exactly how Derek felt about him just from the way that he was acting, so he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and then turned back to the table and grabbed a cinnamon roll for himself, smiling when he saw Scott lean in and rest his head against Allison’s shoulder.

Chapter 5 - I Think We're Alone Now...Mostly

There was an overall feeling of contentment settling over the Hale pack, and Stiles suddenly realized that he didn’t have to leave. He didn’t have to leave! Derek had given him a room with him, and everyone wanted him there, and they all seemed to accept him as a co-alpha of sorts alongside Derek, and…my god, he could stay. As it finally hit him, he felt a grin stretch across his face and he knew that it wouldn’t be going away any time soon, and he was perfectly fine with it.

Eventually they all made there way back to the living room and seized all of their presents and ill-gotten gains from their stockings and headed up to their separate rooms.

Liam and Isaac were the first ones to leave, however, thundering down the stairs and running outside to spend more time in the snow. Stiles was fairly certain that Erica and Boyd were celebrating in their own particular way that he didn’t want to know about, and that Lydia had most definitely gone back to sleep.

He wasn’t sure about the rest of the pack, but all thoughts of them went from his mind as soon as he approached Derek’s bedroom door.

No, he silently corrected himself, Our bedroom door.

He nervously thumbed the key in his hand and Derek stepped up right behind him, his hands once more going to Stiles hips, and Stiles couldn’t help but comment, “Okay, I think you have a fetish for my hips, because it’s like you can’t keep your hands off of them,” and Derek snorted and then chuckled and whispered into his ear, “Maybe I do…why don’t you open up the door and we can find out?”

Oh, boy.

Still nervous, but now for an entirely different reason than before, Stiles stepped forward and pushed the key into the lock…and then turned it. As he pushed the door open, he looked around the room to see if he could tell what the man had changed. The bed was a queen, but the first difference that he noticed after that was that there was a desk in the corner of the massive room and that the desk had a wi-fi router on it, along with a small mini-fridge right underneath it, and through the glassed front he saw his favorite soda stocked all the way up to the top. His heart clenched at the sight, knowing that Derek had set up his own internet separate from the rest of the pack, as well as had sacrificed the space where he used to keep his weights.

He walked the rest of the way into the room, squeezing the key in between his fingers, vaguely aware of the fact that Derek closed the door behind them and locked it, taking in everything else.

The walls were no longer dark brown, but now a sage green, and Derek had laid down a thick oriental rug onto the floor, rich in creams, reds, black lines, and green leaves, which was a perfect complement to the walls of the room. The dresser looked bigger than the previous one, and Stiles walked over and pulled open a drawer…and smiled when he saw a couple of his own sweaters tucked right on top.

“So, you went ahead and stole some of my clothes, huh?” he teased, fiddling with the string on the hood, but Derek just shrugged and openly admitted, “I wanted to smell you near me. Room didn’t smell right.”

He then walked up to Stiles and tugged at the edge of his shirt to pull him closer and said, “And now that you’re here, it’s going to be very hard for me to let you leave,” and then Stiles felt lips being pressed to his neck, a wet tongue sliding along his carotid, along with warm hands slipping up under the back of his shirt.

Oh, holy god, he was about to pass out.

He had gone from being completely oblivious to Derek’s affections to suddenly being seduced in the man’s bedroom in under two hours, and he wasn’t entirely sure that his brain could handle it. So, in a desperate measure to gain some semblance of control, he reached down and gently pulled the alpha’s hands off of him.

“Hey, hey…easy there, big guy. We’ve got all the time in the world, now, so why don’t we just, you know…take it slow?”

At that, Derek glared at him and practically growled out, “We’ve been taking it slow for nearly five years, Stiles. How about we finally get up to speed, hm?”

And then Stiles was suddenly flat on his back in the middle of the bed with two hundred and fifteen pounds of sheer muscle on top of him. He should have been suffocating, but instead all that came though in his head was, Oh, holy hell, he feels so good.

His entire body was pressed in between his thighs in the absolute best way and Stiles suddenly knew that he was probably going to be the neediest bottom ever. He had visions in his head of Derek flipping him over and using him to get off while Stiles just lay there on his stomach, helpless, and he didn’t think that he’d ever been so turned on in his life. Stiles knew, though, that he was going to need plenty of prep before something like that happened.

Derek had slid his hands back up under Stiles’ shirt, and was obviously trying to strip it off him, so he raised his arms and helped him and then turned the tables and reached down and pulled Derek’s shirt off, as well, so that they were on equal footing. Both of them were hard, rutting up against each other, their’ pajama bottoms offering little protection between the two of them.

Derek breathed against Stiles lips, both of them open mouthed and gasping for air as they each tried to gain better friction through their sleep pants.

Finally, feeling irritated and annoyed by the barrier, Stiles moved his hands down the alpha’s unfairly chiseled chest to his bottoms and tugged at them as hard as he could, and let out a sigh of relief when they easily slid off, and then Derek was naked on top of him, kicking off the pants behind him to fall down somewhere on the floor. Derek grinned at him, pressed a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth and then ran his nose down Stiles’ chest to his stomach and then slid his hands under his pajamas so that they were cupping his ass, where he then squeezed once, causing Stiles to clench, and then pulled them down just enough so that his cock popped out.

Stiles gasped as wet lips engulfed the tip of his erection and sucked. Hard. Oh, god, what a way to go. Instinctively, he tried to thrust up into Derek’s mouth, but Derek simply held him down with his effortless strength, suckling at just the tip, his tongue darting out every so often to trace the vein on the underside.

Strangled sounds that he didn’t know he was capable of making escaped him, and he gasped and writhed as the older man moved one hand further between his thighs and pressed firmly on the patch of skin just behind his…oh, fuck.

Stiles knew that he was about to blow, and managed to gasp out a warning, “Derek…I’m almost…god, please, not…not yet…”

It seemed to be enough because he did as he asked and moved his hand away and lifted up from the now glistening tip of his cock, precum sticking to his lips, a thick strand of it still sticking to the head of his cock and Derek’s mouth, and then Derek looked up at him with hooded, dilated eyes and Stiles was afraid that he would blow his load anyway, just from that look. He then licked his lips, breaking the strand, and rose up to meet him, their mouths connecting sloppily, and Stiles could taste part of himself on his lips and it should have been a turn off, but it really wasn’t.

Instead, he leaned into it, licking into Derek’s mouth, the taste reminding him of what the man had just been doing to him, and he suddenly had the urge to do the same to him, but he knew that unless the alpha allowed it, then there was no way that he was going to get any leverage to turn him over and return the favor.

Curious to see if he would let him, he gently pushed at Derek’s shoulder…and shuddered when the man let him turn him over to his back and Stiles straddled him.

The feeling of power, though fake, was heady, and Stiles quickly used the momentary lull to pull his own pajama pants off the rest of the way and threw them to join Derek’s on the floor, and then put his knees to either side of Derek’s hips and pressed his hands to the man’s chest, scraping his fingernails through the hair, loving the contrasting feel of coarse hair and smooth skin.

He took a moment to lean down and press his forehead to Derek’s.

“God, I love you,” he breathed out and then buried his head into Derek’s neck, a semblance of what Derek had done to him earlier, running his tongue along his pulse point and softly grinding down over the man’s prodigious erection. “I love you so much, Derek…”

He felt him swallow against his lips and he replied, “I love you, too, Stiles…”

Unable to help himself, Stiles lifted his eyes and smirked at him and said, “Then you probably won’t mind if I do this, would you?” and slid down his front until Derek’s erection was at eye level, and then flicked his tongue out tentatively, not having done it before, but knowing what he himself liked, and he heard Derek curse above him, and a soft thump told him that he’d thrown his head backwards into the pillow.

He took shameless advantage of his position and slid his hands under Derek’s ass and used the leverage to hold him closer to his mouth. Eager, but also cautious, he wrapped his lips around the tip and gently sucked…and he was hooked. Derek tasted amazing, and Stiles suddenly had the thought that he needed to get the rest of Derek’s dick into his mouth at that very moment. He knew better than to rush it, so instead inched down bit by bit, savoring every sound that fell from Derek’s lips.

He could feel that Derek was trying to keep from thrusting into his mouth, and for that he was grateful.

His lips stretched as he moved a little bit further down his cock and it felt good, especially when he heard Derek let out a strangled gasp when he softly squeezed the flesh under his fingers. Stiles memorized the feel and taste of the skin of Derek’s cock on his tongue, desperate to have even more.

He wanted to taste all of him. No matter what.

When he hit the back of his throat, Stiles noticed there were still at least three more inches, so he reluctantly let go with one hand and moved it to wrap around the base of his cock, his lips meeting his fingers, and then slowly pulled back, sucking strongly the entire time, and Derek gasped out, “Ah, Stiles!” and so he slid back down, enveloping him once more in the heat of his mouth. As he bobbed up and down on his cock, he quickly felt himself developing an oral fixation. Oh, he couldn’t wait to do this all the time.

He didn’t know how long he was down there, worshipping his cock, but it was long enough that his jaw started to ache, and then Derek reached down and touched his fingertips to his shoulder and Stiles felt the ache in his jaw dissipate and he grinned to himself, finding it amusing that the alpha was using his healing abilities during sex.

Encouraged, he sucked a bit more forcefully, and then was pleased when Derek let out a hoarse shout and then called out, “Stiles, I’m…I’m gonna…”

And then he burst over the back of his tongue and he swallowed it down as best he could, enjoying every tremor and twitch of Derek’s body beneath his as he cleaned him up with teasing licks along the crown of his cock as he gently let him slip from his mouth.

He looked up at the man, and he swore he’d never seen anything so beautiful. Derek’s body was soaked with sweat, as well as his hair, and an errant strand curled over his forehead, damply clinging to his skin, drawing Stiles’ attention to his eyes which were wide…and bleeding a faint red. Oh, now that was hot. And then he looked down at Derek’s mouth, which was open wide, panting, and Stiles took pride in the fact that he’d just taken the man’s breath away. He’d seen him run flat out for five miles and not be out of breath, but one blowjob from Stiles and he looked wrecked.

Grinning, Stiles moved back up his body and pressed a kiss to the man’s jaw and then whispered into his ear, “You look so good right now,” and he felt Derek’s body shiver beneath him.

Just as he was about to say something else, he found their positions switched…and he let out a groan when Derek then moved Stiles from his back over to his front so that Stiles was spread out under him exactly the way that he had imagined when they had first started their rendezvous.

Derek pressed his chest to his back, hands on his shoulders, and then leaned down and nipped at Stiles’ neck with teeth that were sharper than they should have been.

“You have no idea how good you smell right now,” he murmured, laving his tongue across the back of his neck, sliding down to his spine and then Stiles realized that he was letting out faint mewls as the older man proceeded to dip his tongue into every little divot as he traced his way down his back. And then…

“Oh, holy god,” Stiles breathed out as he felt a strong tongue slip between his cheeks. He’d never…oh. God.

He tried to arch back into it, but Derek’s hands held him firmly down against the mattress and Stiles had never felt so helpless before in his life…or more helplessly turned on. Sure, he’d read about this sort of thing before, and he’d seen it in a few of the porn videos he’d watched, but he’d never understood the appeal. Until now. And now he felt like every nerve ending was on fire as Derek slipped his tongue over and over his hole, urging him to loosen up for him, and soon his tongue was sliding inside, and Stiles was seeing stars.

He moaned into the pillow, gripping it as tightly as he dared, unashamedly biting into it, trying to figure out how to breathe.

And then he felt something blunt pressing into him, the pressure deliriously good, and he dared to glance back and down and realized that it was Derek’s finger, and he managed to say, “More,” but he sure that it came out more as a needy moan, because Derek looked back up at him, smirked, and then playfully dug his teeth into the flesh of his ass as he slid his finger the rest of the way in, all the way to the knuckle.

He slowly pumped it in and out of him and Stiles was almost crying because he kept on trying to move his hips to push further into it, but Derek held him fast, not letting him move.

After an interminable wait, Stiles felt a second finger breach him, which stung for a second, but then the alpha’s fingers curled in just the right way…holy shit.

Colors burst behind his eyelids as he stroked a spot inside of him that Stiles had never been able to quite reach with his own fingers, and he felt the tip of his cock spurt more precome, soaking the sheets under his stomach as Derek pressed up against it relentlessly, his tongue now tracing along the spot where his ass met his thigh, his fingers doing all the work. And then…a third finger. Stiles gasped and struggled a bit more, arching his shoulders, doing everything he could to get Derek to go faster, harder, but he resolutely kept his sedate pace, brushing up on his prostate with every three strokes, or so. Holy shit, he wasn’t sure he was going to last, he thought to himself as he felt more precome drip from the head of his cock, staining the bedding even more.

He swore he felt Derek grin against him when he swore under his breath, because suddenly the fingers were gone, and Stiles felt shockingly empty, but then he felt Derek’s hands on his hips, hitching them up slightly higher than before, and then…

“Oooooh,” was all that he able to groan out as Derek entered him with his cock, already hard again, spearing him open.

It still hurt a little bit because Derek was thick, but mostly what Stiles felt was a low thrum of pleasure in his stomach that started to lick up his back and down into his balls, and he didn’t want it to end. He did let out a gasp, though, when Derek kept on pushing in, wondering just how big was the man?

The alpha suddenly stopped, and Stiles glanced over his shoulder and saw him with his eyes tightly closed, panting, the veins in his neck standing out as if he was holding himself back…and so Stiles glanced down. He still wasn’t all the way in. Oh, god. He was going to be split in two. And he wanted every second of it.

Realizing Derek needed help, he reached back and slid his fingers over Derek’s, where they rested on his hip in a vice-like grip, noticed that Derek’s claws were out, and then said, licking his lips, “C’mon, big guy. Take me all the way, you can do it,” and Derek’s eyes snapped open at his words. They were bright red. Undeterred, and even more turned on, Stiles pulled at the man’s fingers, linked his through them, and added, “Please. I need you. All of you.”

And those seemed to be the magic words.

With a snarl, Derek tightened his grip on his hips even further, his claws lightly digging into his skin, and shoved himself the rest of the way in and Stiles collapsed back onto the bed, his only points of contact with the sheets being his chest and arms, as Derek now held the back part of him up in the air effortlessly.

Stiles had never felt more full in his life. He’d played with dildos in the past, but this…god, this was a million times better. Derek was stupidly thick and long and Stiles felt that if the man wasn’t holding him that his body would have split underneath all of the pressure. And in that particular position, it felt like the only thing that existed south of his waist was Derek’s cock. And then he started to thrust, and Stiles felt his eyes roll back in his head and he knew that he wasn’t going to last.

Stiles managed to brace himself with his hands against the headboard as Derek pounded into him, at first with a steady rhythm, but then it started to pick up, and he was going faster and faster and Stiles felt tears forming at the corner of his eyes with how good it all felt. It was completely overwhelming, in the absolute best way.

He felt his cock rise even more and then, on one particularly well-aimed thrust, he felt his balls draw up tight against him and he knew that he was close.

“Der, I’m, I’m…I’m close,” he gasped out, unsure if the man was even aware of anything at that point, because all he heard behind him was grunting and the occasional growl, but apparently Derek heard him, because his response was to tighten his grip even further and pull him down even harder onto his cock, and his thrusts became harder and more erratic, and then he was leaning over his back and his teeth bit into the back of Stiles’ neck and--

Stiles cried out as he came, thick lines of come spilling from him and onto the bed beneath him, and he could feel Derek still thrusting and--whoa, what the hell--he was getting bigger?

And then his mind flashed back to some research he’d done years ago and supplied him the answer: knotting.

He cried out a second time at the unexpected pressure from the base of Derek’s cock that was now pressing directly onto his prostate and drawing out his orgasm longer than he knew was possible, and he sobbed at the onslaught of pleasure that wouldn’t let up, still coming, and then sobbed some more when he felt the sticky wet heat painting his insides as Derek came inside him, and his eyes rolled up in his head and he felt faint as the world went black around him.

He didn’t know how long it lasted, but when he finally came back to himself, he found them on the floor on a pile of thick blankets, Derek’s cock still inside of him, and he moved a little, just to see if he could, and Derek hissed when his knot tugged at the edge of his hole and pulled him closer, murmuring into his ear from where he was curled up behind him, “Not yet, Stiles…it’s gonna be a while longer before I can…I can pull out.”

He sounded embarrassed, so Stiles reassured him by lifting his hand up and running it through the alpha’s hair and said, “Hey, it’s okay. You just gave me the most amazing orgasm of my life. You’re not gonna hear me complaining any time soon,” and Derek let out a sigh into his shoulder and ran his hand over Stiles’ side and then lightly thrusted into him, as if making himself more comfortable, and Stiles let out a sigh of his own and added, “God, that feels good…”

He heard Derek hum behind him, and just from the sound, Stiles knew he was still feeling unsure.

Desperate to let him know that he hadn’t done anything wrong, Stiles said, “Okay, so the knotting was a surprise, but I enjoyed every single second of it. Obviously,” he drawled, grinning as he rolled his eyes. “It’s not every day that I have an orgasm so strong that I blackout.”

At that, he turned his head to look Derek in the eye and saw a small, albeit smug grin cross his lips.

Derek then worried his bottom lip between his teeth and then said, “So…you really liked it?”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh and replied, “Yeah, big guy. I really, really liked it. And, just you know, the knotting wasn’t a huge surprise,” he admitted and chuckled again when Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “I did some research way back when Scott was first turned and it took me to some, uh, questionable websites. I didn’t know what was true and what wasn’t, so I ignored most of it, but might have been a little too interested in some of it.”

Derek then shook his head and pressed his forehead to Stiles’ shoulder and said, “Of course, you did.”

Stiles went to turn his head a bit further…but winced as he felt some sort of soreness on the back of his neck. What the…? He reached up a hand and felt around, and then felt Derek’s fingers entwine with his and move them both to what felt like a wound that was already healing.

“Derek, what…?”

He didn’t finish the question, but the alpha answered anyway, explaining, “It’s a mating bite. It won’t turn you, just…it’s sort of a claiming mark, declaring you off limits to anyone that might try and take you from the pack. This lets everyone know that you’re mine.” He went a bit quiet, and then said, “I’m sorry. I just…it was the heat of the moment, and you felt so good on me and you smelled so good and willing, that I just…I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry,” he apologized a second time, and Stiles shook his head.

“Hey, hey, don’t be,” he said, lightly thrusting his ass back onto Derek’s knot, reminding him that they were still joined, causing them both to softly moan. “I wanted this. All of this. I will always want all of you, Der…you understand that, right? That I will always want all of you? That’s why I said it…”

He let his voce drift and smiled when Derek buried his nose into his neck and breathed him in, licking at the bite…

…and then Derek was rolling him to his front and lightly thrusting into him a second time, his knot catching deliciously on the edge of Stiles’ rim, making him groan.

He then continued to thrust, and Stiles felt helpless, his still neglected cock being forced to rut into the soft pile of blankets beneath him.

“Yes, Derek,” he breathed out and that seemed to be the spark he needed, because he began to move his hips faster, pistoning at a speed that no human could hope to match, and Stiles groaned when he felt Derek’s knot swell up a bit more. It only took a few more thrusts and then they were both coming, Stiles crying out as his prostate was relentlessly pressed up against and he continued to come, baffled that he still had anything left in him after last time.

They then collapsed on the blankets in a tangle of hot and sweaty limbs, and Stiles welcomed the weight of him on his back, and said, “Boy, you really like me, huh?”

And Derek broke out into uncharacteristic giggles and then pressed his forehead into the back of Stiles’ shoulder and said, “Yeah, uh…sorry about that. It’ll take a while for it to go down, again. Uh, you just…you just smell really good with my scent inside you. I kind of really like it…”

Stiles smiled and reached around and patted at Derek’s side, and said, “It’s all good. Now, how about we do nothing for a while and then clean up and go back down for some more food?”

Derek nodded and nuzzled into him, rolling them back over to their sides.

“Sounds good,” he said, already halfway asleep, and Stiles smiled as the alpha unconsciously tugged him closer to his hips.

--

A couple hours later, they made their way back downstairs, both of them having showered after they woke up, deciding it would be best if they didn’t share the shower. It proved to be the better idea, as they actually got done in time.

The instant they walked into the living room, however, both of them heading over to retrieve their stockings, Jackson scrunched up his nose and gave both of them a judgmental look.

“Okay, seriously?” he said, “What did you two do? Have an all-out orgy?”

Derek flushed a dark red, so Stiles straightened his shoulders and glared right back at the beta and said, “You’re just pissed that I got sexed up today and you haven’t,” and Isaac snorted, Liam choked on his bite of cinnamon roll, Scott groaned, and both of the girls rolled their eyes.

He sat back down on the couch, wincing slightly as he did, noticing Derek shoot him a small smirk at seeing his reaction. Stiles ignored him and went back to his candy, popping in several pieces of chocolate at once, feeling absolutely famished. He’d burned a lot of calories and in the best way possible. Despite the slight soreness, he was excited to do it again, and looked back over at Derek and gave him a secretive smile, biting his lip as he thought about what else the two of them could do.

Lydia, who sat at Stiles’ feet with her back to the couch, arched her neck and looked up at them and said, “Glad to see the two of you happy. You deserve it,” she added, looking over at Derek.

Stiles saw that he was feeling awkward and so decided to close the remaining distance between them and rested his head on the alpha’s shoulder, knowing that Derek would have trouble initiating such casual, intimate touching between the two of them. Derek was stiff for a moment, but then Stiles gently slid his fingers into his and squeezed his hand and he felt the older man’s entire body relax under his touch.

After a brief second of everyone staring at them, they all went back to their stockings and their presents and Stiles held in a snort when he heard Scott complaining about the socks Liam had gotten him.

They stayed that way for a long while, and soon Stiles’ head had drifted to Derek’s lap, and the alpha started running his fingers through his hair. It was soothing and lulled him into a not-quite-state of sleep. He was floating between being awake and being asleep, enjoying the soft attention of Derek’s fingers as they trailed along his hairline, through it, and then gently moved down to trace the nearly healed mating mark on the back of his neck.

As he pressed him thumb to it, Stiles blearily muttered, “All yours, Derek,” and he glanced up and saw through sleepy eyes that Derek was smiling.

Derek smiled back at him.

“All mine,” he whispered, his fingers still running over the scar.

Things were fairly quiet, until Liam suddenly spoke up from his spot sprawled between Lydia and Jackson, his legs on Lydia’s lap, his head on Jackson’s thigh, and asked, “When’s dinner? I’m starving,” to which Allison responded from her place closest to the fireplace with Scott’s head in her lap, “You just ate! Didn’t you have, like, three cinnamon rolls and five pieces of Stiles’ desserts?”

Before Liam could give a rebuttal, Lydia said, “Yes, he did, but he has like, three stomachs or something when it comes to food. Now, if I remember correctly,” she said, glancing up at Stiles and Derek, “We already have a whole bunch of prepared food, we just have to heat it up, right?” Stiles nodded as best he could from his position, and she smiled and said, gently shoving Liam’s legs off her own, “Then in that case, let’s let Derek and Stiles have a break while you and I,” she pointed at Scott, pulling a groan from him, “Go reheat the food. It’s the least we could do, Scott, considering we didn’t help out much this holiday,” she said, walking over and pulling him up from his comfortable spot.

Stiles snorted in amusement as he watched his friend get dragged off to the kitchen to help prepare (a word he loosely used) dinner for the pack.

Derek then said lowly into Stiles’ ear, “What are the chances that they’ll burn the food?” and Stiles shrugged as best he could and answered, “Eh, fifty-fifty,” and Derek’s expression looked slightly worried as he turned his gaze over his shoulder back towards the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about it, big guy,” Stiles said, patting his knee. “Lydia will make sure Scott doesn’t ruin everything.”

Derek nodded, but his mouth was still in a thin line, so Stiles decided to distract him by asking, “Hey, by the way, why did your mom and dad put their names on the inside of the front door when they moved in?” and Derek turned his attention back to him and smiled at the question.

“A friend of theirs actually helped them build the house, so, when they put the front door in, the last piece, they thought it would be good to mark it with their names to show that they had a place that they could always call home.” His voice drifted, and Stiles could tell from the faraway look in his eyes that he was remembering them. “When you helped put this place back together…that was when I knew.” He looked down at him and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “That was when I knew that I needed to keep you with me. Always. And when you carved your name next to mine…I just knew.”

Stiles smiled up at him and then reached up and gently pulled him down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you, sourwolf,” he murmured against his lips as they parted, and Derek grinned when he added, “Merry Christmas.”

“The best Christmas,” he replied, darting in and placing a quick kiss on his nose and Stiles smiled.

As they settled back into each other, he mused that the two of them had really gotten the best gifts that they ever could have gotten. Each other. Derek adjusted himself so that Stiles was now pressed along his entire side, him on his back and Derek on his side with his back to the back of the sofa, one leg thrown over both of Stiles. They were nearly asleep when--

--“What the hell did you do?” screeched Lydia. “I said put it in for one minute!!”

“I did!” yelled back Scott and they could both smell smoke coming from the kitchen, along with the acrid smell of burnt food, and then they heard Lydia say, “No, you idiot, you put it in for ten minutes. God! That’s it! Out of the kitchen!”

They heard a scuffle and then a thump as Scott landed on his ass on the floor just beyond their view.

“And don’t come back in here!”

Stiles felt Derek shaking next to him and then looked up just as Derek broke into laughter and Stiles then broke into giggles, himself, and managed to gasp out, “They’re your pack, Derek! You’ve got no one but yourself to blame,” to which Derek replied, finally getting his laughter under control, “No, they’re our pack,” and Stile breath caught in his throat.

Yeah.

They were their pack.

[just-mirko]

lavender petals - part 1

MASTERLIST

Mirko x Reader

Angst, Slow-ish burn, fluff, 

WC: 4.1K

MANGA SPOILERS  IN LATER PARTS

  A steady and constant roll of tapping continued outside

where the rain poured down in fleets of cold water. The little drops all

together sounded like thousands of typewriters; the tiny stamps pressing fresh

ink stains into parchment. The storm did not only darken the sky but slowly,

the concrete was dampened into a charcoal shade and the glass windows collected condensation. The scent of petrichor had not reached where I was, but the

second I stepped outside I could already feel it overtaking my senses. have caused me to be

upset, and make me curse the heavens, but today, the rain started just as the

the shop was about to close, only 30 minutes till I would lock the doors and turn

around the little double-sided sign; switching it to “welcome” to “come back

later. I could not anticipate any customers would actively rush to my store in

the terrible weather, so I accepted it as an easy break where I could stay inside

and relax with warm herbal tea. 

            My shoes squeaked beneath me when I turned back to the

service counter. Aromas and floral notes were everywhere I stepped. Even if you

stood still, they still changed. orchids, roses, daisies, and violets all

dancing together in harmony. 

            Once I reached behind the counter, I could see every

corner of the shop in its array of colors that seemed duller than usual from

the lack of sunlight. Nonetheless, they still stood out against the dull pots

and glass vases.  

            ‘I should be done for the day’ I thought to

myself, already having swept the floor, put out the new flowers, and clipped

the old ones before the storm arrived. An overdramatized sigh passed my lips

when I went to sit at the stool next to the register. 

            Sitting behind the register was always slightly

inconvenient, because blocking my view of the entrance to the store was a

large, and I mean large, bouquet of fresh lavender sprigs. They were normally

used as filler plants but had just come in today and I still could not decide

what to do with them. Additionally, I lacked a new arrangement to add them too,

so they were left out to stand alone.

            By far they were the most prominent in the store. Their

sized rivaled all the large wedding table pieces we had. And the smell, though

calming, gave me a headache after being with them all day. 

            It is not like anyone would buy them either. They were not

as easy on the eye as a rose, three times as expensive, and once again,

typically used as filler flowers. 

            I settled on scrolling on my phone to distract myself

from thinking about what to do with them. I did not want to wait too long to

sell them lest they wilt.  

            ‘Oh look, my webtoons updated.’

            Fifteen-minutes passed quickly and mindlessly. Only 15

minutes till I could lock up and go home. The storm still had not relented, and

now, the rain was accompanied by large clashes of thunder and lightning. 

            These days life was quite simple. It was not exceptional

nor terrible, but a mediocre and peaceful existence that brought me the chance

to do what I loved. I had friends I visited occasionally, a small business that

was doing well with the white day just around the corner (an eastern type of

valentine’s day).  But no matter how many

flowers I had, it wouldn’t quell the little part of my heart longing for

something more. 

            “CLASH”

            The lightning what getting closer outside. It got louder

and louder, making me jump in my seat a little. 

            “CLASH”

            The rain slammed into the ground, but something else was

happening as well. Something in the background of sorts. 

            “CRASH”

            A resonating bang that sounded nothing like lightning

erupted nearby. A car alarm blared as well. 

            ‘Could it be a villain?’ I asked myself as I look

over the purple blossoms to see if I could see what was going on from outside

my window. Alas, it must have been a street down. 

            ‘Why would they fight in this type of weather though?’

Villain activity has spiked rapidly in the last few weeks as the League of

Villains had risen to power than out of nowhere disappeared without a trace. Not

to mention the capture of stain had encouraged many of the morally grey

antagonists to step out of the shadows in pursuit of their own type of justice.

Everyone had their own definition. 

            I tried to stay up to date on villain activity but so

much was constantly happening. Three times a week we got a new story. In the

beginning, the attacks seemed petty and selfish. Things like; “3 criminals rob a

local bank” or “Enraged fire-type quirk user burns down workplace” but today,

they were more organized, harder to stop. All the villains were working towards

a greater goal that was easier to see. 

            A little bit ago, one of the most popular quirks inclusive

department’s CEO joined the LOV after an all-out fight. Many were injured. It

was practically a bloodbath. Citizens remember seeing ice and blue fire merge

in giant tornados in the sky. The entire building disintegrated without a

trace. A witness with still in shock commented that she saw a UA student emerging

from the rubble, but that claim was shut down instantly by that student’s very

own teacher. 

            Unease was everywhere. People even began to stop trusting

figures of authority out of fear they might not be who they said. I was not a

target to any kind of villain myself, but who knows if I could become just

another statistic on the news.

            Police sirens came into earshot. 

            I guess it was a criminal after all. Soon enough I would

be able to find a nice little article online detailing everything that happened

with a cover image of an unscathed hero smiling at the camera as if all were

well. How they tried to convince us that all was wel-

            The chime of bells interrupted my thoughts when someone

came through the store door, very close to closing time. 

            When I looked up at them, I completely froze, unknowing

of what to do say, even think. 

            Before me stood… Mirko? Mirko. Mirko the Rabbit Hero. The

number #4 hero. The best female hero. And she was- Injured? 

            She stood with her shoulders rolled back but she was

panting heavily. Her platinum hair dripped water onto the pristine checkerboard

floors I just mopped. Across her, the skin on one of her shoulders was a crimson

slash. The blood that came from it dripped partially into her hair, staining it

slightly; and partially mixed with the water she was absolutely drenched in. She

looked cold in the light hero gear. 

            In her weak state, she still held an air of strength. When

I looked up in obvious shock at her condition, I was met with piercing red eyes

and a smile I would describe as manic on anyone else. 

            “C-can I help you—are you okay?” I stumble out when I

started to panic, realizing that she just fought the cause of all the racket

down the street.         

            My response only looked to entertain her, and she smiled

wider chuckled then pulled her hair over one shoulder: twisting it to ring out

the excess water (and blood).

            “Yea, you do sell flowers, right?” She said. We were

obviously on different pages. She seemed completely relaxed as she was still

bleeding a watered-down red puddle onto the floor. Meanwhile, I was seriously

concerned about her health. Online, I simply assumed that every pro-hero held a

façade. That they were not as cocky, brave, or positive as they seemed once the

cameras were cut. This though was a spitting image of every picture of her I

had seen. Despite that, nothing could have prepared me for this in person-encounter.

            “Y-yes I sell flowers” 

            I frantically scanned across the store for something for

my eyes to latch onto. My fingertips pressed hard against the side of the

resister to the point where my fingertips were turning white and my knuckles

began to cramp. 

            Mirko walked forward. Despite her injuries, she did not

have any limp and strolled casually over to some of the display stands

near the front window. I fidgeted with my finger while I stumbled over to where

she was. Her gaze we currently focused on some white lilies, though she soon

switched to some yellow roses. 

            “What is the, um, the occasion- For the flowers?” The

words tumbled out of my mouth. They felt out of order and out of place. Seeing a

hero in public is a strange thing. As amazing as they are, you always suspect

that there is an underlying threat of danger. You are both drawn to them yet

repelled by the hint. It's always ‘Why would a hero be here.” That wasn’t

the occasion now though. She was just- here for flowers? She was definitely just

off from work and needed a few band-aids; at most, stitches. My mind still had a

rough time thinking over why she so casual. I hoped this doesn’t happen often

for her. 

            Mirko’s fingers paused when she traced the outline of an

imported lily. 

            “A friend of mine got his ass beat up by a walking flamethrower”

The way she said that, so lightheartedly, with a slight smirk on her face, but

sadness in her eyes confused me. 

            “Is he a hero too?” I inquired; taken aback by the lack

of filter.  It had nothing to do with the

flowers, but my curiosity got the best of me. 

            “Hawks.” She shortly stated before turning back towards

me.

            A look of recognition must have crossed my face as she did

not explain any further and just continued. 

            “So…” She crossed her hands over her chest and looked up

towards me (we using Mirko’s canon height today cause she short short lol).  

            “What flowers would be best for ‘get better idiot’” Her

hair was still disheveled and soaking wet but the ethereal glow the rain seemed

to give her face made me want anything but eye contact. I shouldn’t really get

flustered so easily, but when a celebrity built like a Greek goddess steps into

your shop looking like she’s straight out of war…  

            “Well, I wouldn’t be able to make any custom arrangements

today because I’m closing-“I looked down at my watch for the time. “5 minutes

ago, but we have many premade sets and custom vases if you’re interested?”

            I tried to seem chipper and avert my gaze from her hair,

bleeding shoulder, and foot that was insistently tapping on the wet floor, but

in between each word I stole a glace that did not go unnoticed. 

            “That’s okay, I’m fine with a pre-made bouquet.” I

fiddled with my thumbs once more. She was really giving me nothing to work

with. 

            “Any flowers in specific you like?” I asked, grasping for

straws. Mirko’s expression was perfectly neutral and ambiguous. Even if she

gave me a color, I could work off that, but all I had was a name and extra

mopping to do. 

            ‘I wonder if blood will stain my tile’

            What she said next seemed to fit with the personality I

was slowly assembling her. 

            “You guess.” And with that, she turned to look at more

bouquets and potted plants that lined the shelves. 

            The lavender! I thought, finally thinking I had found a

way to get rid of them but realized that may not be well suited as a get well

soon gift. 

            Hawks. Hawks. Hawks. The bird hero. The bird men. Red

feathers, right? 

            Because of the hero’s color pallet, per

se, I was drawn to red roses and yellow daisies, maybe some red and white

lilies. I found an arrangement I thought fit on one of the shelves next to a

window, where it was still raining outside. I carefully picked the flowers up;

their silky petals caressed my hand. Two petals floated down onto the floor as

I relocated them back to the assembly station. 

            “Would you like a vase with this?” I questioned. Her ears

perked towards me, shocking me in the slightest. Of course, it was not unusual,

but with how she seemed to hear me from across the room without turning her

head made me fear that she would hear my heartbeat racing in my chest. This was

a hero. A real-life hero. God, I hope I do not mess this up. 

            “Mmmhnn,” She said, inflecting that meant yes. I walked

near a shelf where we stored them and looked at the variety of glass, plastic,

and even porcelain vases reserved for special occasions. My eye was stuck on a

red one that caught the soft lighting of the store beautifully. I reached up to

grab it and held the cool glass in my hand. With the sleeve of my jacket, I

began to brush off some of the dust, ignoring the mark it left.

            “Ooh, I like that one” I heard from behind me. Quite

startled I jumped, and the vase left my hand, seconds from crashing into the

floor. Before I could blink, Mirko had caught it agilely. 

            “The color is nice,” She said as she turned it over in her

hands, clearly pleased with having shaken me. 

            Honestly, the banter was a nice break from today. I guess

it would not hurt to lighten up a little. 

            “Yea,” I said with a gentle smile. 

            I had almost finished totaling her order and was putting

the flowers in the box to protect from the rain when I looked over at Mirko and

saw her quite intrigued by the lavender practically overtaking my desk. 

            “We just got that lavender in! It's fresh and quite relaxing.”

I hummed to myself, pleased with the wrapping I did on Hawk’s bouquet.

            “How much for them?” She asked turning to me inquisitively.

            “Well lavender isn’t normally sold alone but that’s about

10 arrangements worth” I said pointing to the sheer number of flowers. Upon

the counter, they were more than two feet tall. 

            “So?” She said, resting her elbows upon the table and leaning

in to smell the lavender even more. The ivory ears atop her head sloped

downwards a little more reminding me of a little puppy when they got pet. An

obvious show of their aromatic effects. 

            “Two-hundred, though I could definitely get you a smaller

amount if you would like, they’re sold twenty per bundle just because of how

hard they are to transport and a how delicate they te-“

            “I’ll take them all,” She said with an aggressive smile

and firm shake of her head. There was a switch in her tone like she suddenly

decided she revealed too much of herself to the general public. I did not like

thinking that though. That she saw me as the public. Everyone wants to be

special sometimes.  

            “How was errr- work today?” I asked, clearly insinuating

my concern for her condition.

            A small shadow passed over her face. Her eyes got a

little darker and the corners of her mouth turned down before her typical passionately

a confident smile came back.

            “Nothing I can’t handle” Those smug words were

accompanied by a flourished wink that was embellished her white eyelashes.

            “I heard a crash nearby. Was there a villain?” This time

she did not hesitate to answer. 

            She finished paying and gave me an address to deliver

them to tomorrow. One to a hospital, and one to a home address. I expected a

PO box and assumed her address was not something she just gave away, but that was

not the only thing I was warmly excited about. Instead of signing “Mirko” her

formal hero title on the receipt, She signed her real name, Rumi Usagiyama.

             ---

            The weather was much more considerate this morning. When I

awoke, golden rays filtered light through my lashes into my eyes. The faint

sound of birds chirping and bustling people in the city below faintly reached my

ears. 

            I lived right above my flower shop, making my commute to work

 conveniently. I chose to dress a little bit nicer today, opting for a cream-colored

turtleneck and dark washed jeans instead of my normal gardening attire. Spring

was right around the corner in Musutafu Japan. Winter was leaving and the city

was in the awkward middle state where it's too cold to wear spring clothes but

too sunny to stay in jackets. 

            Since yesterday was Saturday, I had today off, kinda. I

just had a few flower deliveries to complete before I could go back home and lay

on the couch eating watermelon sour patch kids (ichor itself) and reading

terribly done 9k fanfics online. (Wow! Our reader!! Is super!!! Self!!!!

Aware!!!!!) 

            My brain had completely blocked out everything that

happened last night, so when I checked my order list and saw Rumi

written in neat handwriting, my confusion was immense. 

            ‘So, It wasn’t a dream then…’’ huh.”

            I walked downstairs into my store. I saw a few

schoolchildren peeking in the dark windows since there were no lights on to look

at the flowers. I waved to them and then chuckled to myself when they left tiny

little handprints on the glass. Tall buildings could be seen across. A café, a

tattoo shop, a little library, and many small businesses that were nestled right

in the center of town where they got lots of attention. Around the back exist to

the stores were where most of the employees parked. My friend and co-worker had

called in sick this weekend, so it meant I had to do all the deliveries myself.

            I went over to the storage room. A wave of cold rushed

over me and sent tingles down my entire body. This was always kept cold to keep

the flowers alive longer, but always hated retrieving boxes from there. 

            I steadily grabbed the lavender-filled box and stacked

Hawk’s arrangement box on top of it. The white cardboard stood so tall in front

of me when I held them I could barely see when I walked out the back door and

over to my car where I nearly dropped them loading them into my car’s trunk. 

            I clumsily got into the driver’s seat and started the

engine to head to the first address. Hawk’s hospital. Right in the center of

town, it was only 10 minutes when you accounted for traffic.             

            The hospital was the nicest in Mafatsu, with white pillars

and balconies on some patient's rooms. Only the best for heroes. When I got out

of my car and drew near, the building felt like it was swallowing me whole in

its large size. 

            My soft footsteps appeared insignificant with prestigious

doctors and nurses bustling around in choreographed chaos. When I got to the reception

area, a pink-haired nurse with a kind smile greeted me cheerfully. 

            “Hello! How can I help you today?” She began typing before

I even said anything. Maybe a prediction quirk. 

            “Hey, I’m here to drop off flowers from Mirko for Hawks?”

            She nodded in understanding and scanned her eyes over my

body, then the box I was holding, all while typing fluidly into a computer. Finally,

her gaze broke and she looked down at a small printer that made a small sticker

with the words visitor pass in bolded font. 

            “He will be on the top floor, level 60 in room 219. If he

isn’t in his room, just call a nurse with the pager in there, he’s been getting

out a lot recently.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance. 

            “He really just wants to get back to work but whenever he

flies he leaves a trail of blood and feather in his path”

 Her hair swished when she leaned over to give

me the papery sticker. Her fingertips brushed against my palm for a second

longer than platonic before she went back and waved goodbye to me. Her cheeks were tinted slightly pink.

            The encounter made my heart rush but that might just because

it’s the first romantic-ish thing that has happened to me in a while. I mean

she was pretty- but we scarcely talked. My palm still tingled where our hands

touched though. I was so distracted I did not notice when I found myself in Hawk’s

room. 

            I had never delivered anything to a hero before. Should I

just drop them in and leave? My hand rested atop the doorknob questioning how

to do this. The fluorescent hospital lights desaturated everything including my

ability to make cohesive thoughts. 

            Just as I opened the door, I heard a shattering sound,

something collapsing, and then 

            “Wait no shit-“Another thing fell to the ground. “-fuck” I

carefully opened the door. To see Hawk’s the pro hero, clutching his side with

one hand, and holding a sideways IV drip in one hand, but the fluid bag itself

was on the floor, along with some kind of glass and a medical device I couldn’t

identify from the various dents and scratches on it. It did not look like he

noticed me yet, he was much too preoccupied. 

            “Hey should-“ 

            “AH!” He yelled turning towards me. I couldn’t flinch

fast enough before three-foot-long red feathers with murderous intent came

spearing towards my head. Within that instant in closed my eyes prepared to be

dead but when I opened them up, the feathers were hovering just centimeters

away from my skull.

            I shocked me that I was still holding the flower box when

I checked. My eyes were wide as I stood still, jaw open, not a single breath

leaving my mouth. 

            “Are you a new nurse or something?” The feathers remained

there. I gulped before answering, my body felt light, flight, or fight already taking

place. 

            “I’m a- a florist.” I gestured down at the box with my

logo on it, and he seemed to relax a little bit. 

            “Oh.” He replied and the feathers returned to beside him.

He tried to make the IV drip stand back up again, but in a futile attempt he

gave up, just letting it fall to the group beside the other tools. He turned away

from me.

            ‘He is obviously in pain right now’ He faced away just

to hide the scowl and how much he was now clutching his side. 

            He looked over his shoulder “Who sent you?”

            “Mirko” I responded relieve that he was no longer about

to kill me. 

            “Where should I leave the flowers?” 

            “The table next to my bed” I stepped over there. An

assortment of papers where there is messy handwriting that I had no place in

reading. Nonetheless, I caught the words “Touya.” Too bad I didn’t know any Touyas.

I sat the box down and opened it up.

            Luckily with everything that went on, I didn’t destroy any

of the blooms. 

            “Did Mirko say anything about me?” He questioned quickly.

As much as he tried to seem tough, he valued her opinion very much. 

            “Get well soon and all of that, nothing much, she was too

busy teasing me, you know?”

            “Mirko was? Teasing you?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion

before settling into a knowing look. 

            “Ohhhh” He winked. 

            “No no, it's nothing like this I promise I just met her.” 

            “Mmmn k” He didn’t believe me in the slightest. 

            “Just watch out she packs a punch” 

            Hawks walked over to where the flowers were and observed

the arrangement. He had a particular fondness for the red lilies, the same ones

that Mirko liked. He talks about her punch though reminded me of the crashes

and villain attack last night.

            “I hope she’s okay, she seemed pretty beat up last night

after the battle.” 

            “Eh, she recovers inhumanly quick. Something to do with the

rabbit in her.”

            He looks over to me and paused. 

            “What’s your name?”

            “(Y/N)” 

            “(Y/N Hmmm) He mumbled to himself like he was getting

used to the way it sounded. 

            “I can’t imagine this will be our last encounter (Y/N),

It was nice to meet you.”

            I smiled graciously and sighed. 

            “Nice to meet you too.”

[asunas-embers]

For our favorite Shirai Ryu boy, @hisoki-sato <3

In the early hours of morning during which a certain pyromancer knew a certain warrior would be taking his breakfast, a carefully packed basket was left among the branches of the tree she knew he would be lounging in before long. She of course, vacated before she could be discovered, but remained not too far away, speaking with the Grandmaster about most of her plans for celebrating Hisoki’s birthday through the day. The last several days had been spent putting it together - the greatest challenge being keeping it out of Hisoki’s sight until the day he was supposed to receive it came. He could always tell when she was up to something. With a bit of luck (and passing the basket off between her and Master Hasashi when needed), it seemed to have remained a secret until now.

In said basket was a variety of things not particularly flashy, but picked with things Asuna knew Hisoki liked in mind. Biggest and most obvious was a sort of bouquet - a bundle of eucalyptus springs, mint, baby’s breath, among several other herbs freshly cut and fragrant, tied off with twine and white ribbon. Tucked in around it were a couple of bags of the nuts Asuna always saw Hisoki snacking on, a bottle of a wine she knew the man enjoyed, a sealed jar of a mint tea which was cut, dried, and blended by the woman herself, and a small box containing a band of simple black stones, split in the middle by a series of small rubies bookended by copper (this particular item had a number of protection charms put on it, but Asuna wouldn’t be so explicit about this). 

Lastly, a carefully folded and sealed piece of paper, sitting in front of everything else. Aside from the wax seal and sprig of baby’s breath holding it closed, the paper itself carried the same smoky, floral scent that clung to its author and had a few little slightly burned brown spots in the shape of fingerprints where Asuna had held the paper down, though these didn’t obscure the carefully penned note on the inside, which read: 

Hisoki, 

Today, I wish you the happiest of birthdays, my love. This little gift is not much, but I hope that it serves as a reminder that you are so, so treasured, so adored, and that celebrating another year with you is the greatest privilege anyone could ask for. Your dedication, humility, and kindness continue to astonish me each day, and I look forward to the years ahead of us knowing I will only fall for you more each day.

Rest assured that you will hear all of this again in person later, probably more than once, as I have assured you a day of rest from your duties with the Grandmaster~ The entire day for you to spend as you see fit, whether it be here or elsewhere! I only request that you keep this evening free, as I am making you dinner to celebrate!

Hisoki, this is only the first of many birthdays that I celebrate with you. Though every day spent with you is a blessing, I hope that this one is exceptionally special for you! 

With all the love I have to give,

Asuna

Not known for her patience when it comes to gift giving, Asuna conveniently was “just passing by” when she saw Hisoki heading for the tree, grabbing one of the lower branches and pulling herself up to brush a kiss against the warrior’s cheek. “Twenty seven looks absolutely flawless on you, my love.” she hummed, securing herself on a branch so that she could lean in, tuck his hair back over his shoulder, and give him a proper kiss. “I was planning on twenty seven of those too, but I think it might not be quite enough.” she grinned. 

Of course, as she had written, most of the day was up to Hisoki, doing as little or as much as Hisoki wanted to do until she parted to make dinner. Though the Grandmaster did stay for dinner to celebrate over wine and far more than enough of Hisoki’s favorite dishes - after all, the two of them were particularly close to the wraith, even if he didn’t always show it - he left soon after, letting the couple have their dessert alone. Asuna coaxed Hisoki out onto the porch outside her room to enjoy the moonlight and split the small cake she’d made for the occasion. After the treat was gone, the woman rested her head on Hisoki’s shoulder, speaking softly. 

“I hope you’ve had a good day.” The statement was accompanied with the soft gesture of her fingertips tracing along the veins on the back of Hisoki’s hand, along each finger, finally ending with her fingers laced between his. Once this was confirmed, she smiled.  “It is so hard to believe that we used to bicker and fight constantly. I remember each time you used to trip me or fuss after me for things I definitely deserved getting fussed at for I would consider assuring that you didn’t get another birthday.” she laughed at this, nudging the man’s shoulder with the bridge of her nose. “But now I can only think of how to make sure I get to see this day with you for as many years as I can. I never thought it would be possible to love someone so profoundly, so deeply, yet here we are. For all the tangible gifts I can offer, I hope that you know that you hold my heart in your hands.” she spoke softly, moving to take Hisoki’s face in her hands. “And you still will at 37, at 57, and beyond. When we’re both old and grey and cranky, I will still trust that my heart, my every intention, my every thought, is safest when it is with you. I love you, so so much, Hisoki. Happy birthday.” And again, just twenty seven kisses did not feel like enough.

[benaffleckofcrowdsurfing]

Lazerquest - part 1

Alex Turner x Reader

Chapter 1/? 

Description: you are an impulsive bartender who recently moved to London after traveling across the United States and living on the road for a few years. You befriend Alex, a musician who recently got out of a long term relationship, and you show him the ways of your free-spirited lifestyle in an attempt to help him move on from his ex. However, you become more of a muse than a friend for Alex and all is revealed when he releases his band’s fourth studio album, “Suck it and See”.

Word count: 1.7k 

Warnings: none ;)

**************

“You know, Y/N, this isn’t a terrible place to have to work,” your flat-mate, Tatiana, sighed. The two of you were sat sipping glasses of red wine at the bar of a rather bustling club in London. You couldn’t stop thinking about how six months ago if you had told yourself that you finally settled down in one spot for long enough to get a serious job and a flat with a lease for more than 6 months, you would have laughed in your own face. Although, you could say that about anything you had done as of late. Your recent life decisions had been everything but predictable. 

“I know. I’m just not thrilled to be the only female working the bar. The guys here sketch me out and I’m not too keen on getting womanized in a foreign country. That was on my mind enough as is when I was living in my parents’ house,” you joke. As lighthearted as you and Tati were being, you very much did feel uneasy. After travelling the United States for nearly 3 years after high school, you felt that you needed to move on to something bigger and more exciting, but you had never left the country before and you knew only one person here.

You had always been the spontaneous type. Your parents worried about you most of your life, as you were extremely impulsive and constantly making brash decisions. When you turned 18 and decided to take off across the country on your own instead of going to college, they were absolutely furious. You went nonetheless, what they thought had never stopped you before. Your excursion was originally only going to be a year long, but you absolutely loved being on the road. You had met so many wonderful people and seen so many wonderful things that going home never once crossed your mind. You just kept on sleeping in hotel rooms and on strangers’ couches until you turned 21.

That couldn’t last forever, though. You were getting bored of the lower 48 states, and your parents, still completely livid that you were ‘wasting’ their college money on what they saw as a cross-country bender, cut you off financially. It was an extremely stressful time, you can vividly remember searching for hours on end for roommates and jobs in Europe before meeting Tatiana and getting a bartending job in the UK. 

Now, 2 short months later, you were in London, living alone with a stranger. Luckily, though, you and Tati were getting along famously and your flat already felt like home. You were eager to start this new adventure.

Tati looked over at the clock before pouting a bit and resting her hand on your knee. “Looks like it’s time for your first day of work, love.”

“Shit. I’m nervous. Do I look okay?” You got up out of your seat and did a little spin for Tati. She squealed and gave you a hug.

“You look fantastic, love. Now go make some money!”

You smiled at your new friend and bid her farewell before walking towards the back of the club. Once you approached the door with a sign that read “EMPLOYEES ONLY”, you took a deep breath. Here we go kiddo. New job. New country. New life.

The second you placed your hand on the door, a large man barged through it. The man huffed and began to tell you that you couldn’t go into the kitchen unless you were an employee. He stopped his lecture and just smiled and when he noticed you were in the club’s uniform of a black dress, Mary Jane heels, and a red name tag, though.

“Oi! You must be Y/N, then?” He chuckled. When you shyly nodded he gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’m your manager, Chuck. Let’s get you behind the bar, shall we?”

**********************

After an hour or so of Chuck showing you where things were, how to ring people up, how to use the cash register, and making sure you actually knew how to make drinks, he left you on your own to serve customers. There were only a few stragglers left in the club as it was near closing time, and all you had done the whole night was pass out some tequila shots to a group of rowdy middle aged women and make some small talk with a man who reminded you a bit of Frank Gallagher from a show called Shameless that you used to watch back home. You were exhausted and started to clean up behind the bar so you’d have less to do when the bar closed for good. It was nearly 2 in the morning and all you wanted to do was get out of your tight ass dress and your heels. 

“What kind of work uniform is a slutty dress anyway, huh? I look like I work on the corner” you mumbled to yourself as you wiped down some glasses.

“I think you look lovely, miss,” a voice said from the corner of the bar. His accent was unlike most men in Londons’ and his voice was raspy and thick. His sudden presence startled you a bit, making you jump a bit and let out a gasp.

“Didn’t mean to creep up on yah and scare yah like that, I’m sorry.” The man chuckled. When you turned around you saw an attractive man, maybe a bit older than you, smirking at you and smoking a cigarette. He had messy hair and a tee shirt on, you thought he looked like he had just gotten out of bed. 

“You’re alright, it’s my fault for zoning out while on the clock. What can I get for you?” You smiled weakly, partially hoping he’d just order a quick drink and then get out of your hair so you could go home. 

“Well, what are you good at making?” the man asked. “I’ll take anything as long as it’s alcoholic.”

You smiled. Making drinks for friends back home had been one of your favorite things to do, and you were excited to show off your skills to an actual customer. “Well, I’ve wanted a grapefruit daiquiri since the beginning of my shift. How does that sound?”

“That sounds fantastic,” the man rubbed his hands together in excitement, “but first I’d like to know how long you’ve been in London. You sound quite American.”

Oh brother, you thought. The attractive stranger seemed to be here to stay and the idea of making conversation when you were this tired made you want to cry. If you had been any less worn-out you would’ve been more than eager to talk to him, brown eyes were always a weakness of yours and there was something particularly enticing about this boy’s, but right now you just wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep. 

“Well go on then, don’t just stare off into space and leave me hanging,” the boy said.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit tired. I’ve only been here for a few days now.”

The boy was rather amused by this. “A few days? And here you are working the closing shift at one of the best bars in London? I’m going to need some more information, love. You’ve drawn me in now.” 

The boy’s excitement perked you up a bit. You had been rather proud of yourself to land a job at such a well-known club with only over-the-phone interviews, and you weren’t going to miss the opportunity to brag a bit. Especially to a cute boy.

“Yeah, I went to bartending school like right after my 21st birthday back in the states and then when I was looking for jobs here in the UK a few months ago I saw there was an opening here. I was really surprised to even have gotten an interview, especially since we had to do everything over-the-phone,” you beamed, knowing that it was impressive to get a job like this in the way you had. The boy looked at you intently while you made his drink. His eyes focused on your hands gripping the cocktail mixer and when you began to shake he had to do his best to hide a smirk. 

“You know I never caught your name,” the boy cleared his throat and broke the momentary silence. 

“You could’ve looked at my name tag,” you murmured just loud enough for him to hear and rolled your eyes playfully. 

“Well I’m sorry Miss Sassy, I find it impolite to stare at a woman’s chest without knowin’ her. Not my fault that’s where your name tag is,” the stranger chuckled, then looked closely at the red tag pinned to your dress. “It’s nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Alex.”

you did your best to hold in a giggle. Alex sounded good saying your name, his accent was rich like honey and you couldn’t help but think about how it’d sound in…other situations. 

“It’s very good to meet you, Alex, now here’s your daiquiri,” you said after pouring the contents of the shaker into a martini glass and adding a sprig of mint to the top. You slid the glass across the bar and nodded your head in satisfaction when he took his first sip and let out a little laugh.

“My goodness, Y/N, that’s a fantastic drink.”

“Thought you might like it. Now drink it quickly, it’s nearly closing time and I’ve still got to wipe down the counters and walk myself home,” you imitated pointing at a watch in your wrist.

“Walk yourself home? Love I couldn’t let you do that. Why don’t you let me finish this drink while you clean up and I’ll escort you home. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” Alex proposed. If it had been anyone else you would’ve politely declined the offer, you knew that walking with a complete stranger in the middle of the night was just as sketchy if not more so than walking alone. But something about Alex made you want to trust him. Even when he had been checking you out while you were making his drink he hadn’t been creepy, his brown eyes had a sort of innocence to them and his smile was soft. You felt comfortable with Alex, and thought his company might be nice on the walk home.

“Deal.”

“Brilliant. Now get to work, Y/N, I’ll be done with my drink before you know it.”

[mayquita]

Damn You For Making Me Love You (12/15) - Memories

Thank you so so much, for your likes, reblogs, kudos and comments. It means the world to me.

Beta-Reader: Thank you so much, @ultraluckycatnd​​​ I couldn’t have asked for a better beta. Thank you for all your effort, your suggestions, your advice and for always being there when I needed you.

Special mention to @saraswans​​ and @onceuponaprincessworld​​​, thank you so much for your perpetual support and for believing in me and in the story. Thank you again to the moderators of the event, @captainswanbigbang​​​ for giving us this opportunity and making this possible. You all are the best :)

Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are close friends and co-workers. And both are in love with each other. The problem? They keep their feelings secret not only to the other but also to the rest of their friends. When Elsa, Emma’s best friend and Liam, Killian’s brother and Emma’s boss find out, they decide to form an alliance and work as a team with a clear goal, to get Emma and Killian to take the next step in their relationship and confess their love for each other.

Rating: M

Word count: ~ 7800 (98k total in 15 chapters)

Ao3 / FFnet

About this chapter: Christmas is coming... That means a perfect setting to face the consequences of their first (second) kiss.

//

Chapter 11: Memories 

Killian - December 2019

 What do you think if we include a current hit in the poll to choose our song for the duet next Saturday? - ES

Emma's message was the first thing Killian saw when he woke up that Sunday morning. He was laying in bed, his mind still dragging from the vestiges of sleep, so he had to read the contents of the text a couple of times until he was able to understand its meaning. Or rather, understand the only thing that mattered to him at that moment. Emma was still planning to sing with him next Saturday.

He was tempted to send a reply including that topic, but in the end, he opted for a less risky approach.

Hi, love. I see no problem with it. I guess you've already thought about a specific song - KJ

Yeah, what do you think about Memories? - ES

After reading the message, he sat up abruptly, dropping the phone in the process. Bloody hell... Memories? Seriously? What the hell was Emma playing at? Was it a way to mess with him? Or her way of telling him that she also remembered? Or was it just a damn coincidence?

A deep breath escaped between his lips as he grabbed the phone again, leaning his back against the headboard of the bed, his fingers sliding across the screen while he debated whether to call her directly and question her or, on the contrary, continue getting the lay of the land. He was about to press the call button, he really was, but in the end, he decided on a simple message. He was nothing but a coward, after all, afraid of what Emma would tell him.

Memories? The one by Maroon 5? - KJ

Yeah, I think it could work since that weekend will be the last of the year. It has a certain festive spirit, with those toast references. - ES

Aye, you got a point, but what do you think if we discuss it later at the bar? We can meet there a little earlier to talk. - KJ

Killian held his breath as he watched as the dots on the screen appeared and disappeared intermittently as if she couldn't decide what to type as a reply. When her new message finally arrived, he couldn't help feeling a pang of disappointment.

That won't be possible. I've already talked to Liam about that. I've got an issue to deal together with Elsa so I will arrive later today. - ES

She was lying, which only increased Killian's confusion. Still, he was now sure that the use of that particular song had been deliberate, although he hadn't yet caught the real reason. He had no choice but to continue playing along and see where all this mess was going.

Okay then. I have no problem including Memories in the poll. - KJ

Great. I'm sending you the rest of the candidate songs and as soon as you give me the approval I will upload it to the website. - ES

You don't need to send them to me, Swan. I trust your ability to choose. I will take a look at the website later. And maybe I’ll even vote ;) - KJ

The conversation looked too professional, even distant, so he made an attempt to approach Emma as her friend instead of her coworker, hence the inclusion of the emoji. It was a poor attempt, he was aware of it, but his brain seemed not to be working properly after their kiss and the remembrance of their weekend in Storybrooke. Emma didn't seem to take the bait, though.

Okay. See you later. - ES

After that last cold message, he had to suppress the urge to throw the phone against the wall, a pull of frustration firmly settled in the pit of his stomach. To make matters worse, the bloody lyrics of the song had found their way in his head and he now felt unable to get rid of those verses. A humorless laugh escaped between his lips when he realized the irony of the song.

Here's to the ones that we got Cheers to the wish you were here, but you're not 'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories Of everything we've been through

In their case, the drinks worked in the opposite way. Instead of bringing back the memories, the alcohol had taken them away. Killian shook his head as he tried to focus his thoughts on something else, anything that didn't remind him of Emma and the taste of her lips on his.

 //

Emma had definitely chosen the bloody song on purpose.

He was sure about that when he entered the website and saw the poll consisted of that song and its rivals, three insubstantial and little known songs. In fact, the poll had only been up for an hour and several people had already voted, with Memories being the one ahead by a wide margin. He didn't know whether to get excited about the prospect of singing that song with her or, on the contrary, feel annoyed because it seemed that Emma was trying to communicate with him in a language he couldn't decipher.

Hopefully, he would find a moment in the following days to talk to her.

//

Emma was avoiding him.

Killian had not only not found the opportunity to talk to her privately but he had barely seen her in the past few days.

On Sunday, she arrived quite late at The Kraken and remained busy throughout the evening. She hardly waited for them to close the bar to leave, alluding that she was tired. On Monday, he didn't even see her since the bar was closed and she excused herself indicating that she was going to take advantage of the day off to do some last-minute Christmas shopping. Today, Tuesday, The Kraken would remain open only a couple of hours, since it was Christmas Eve. Both he and Liam had organized a late Christmas dinner in their apartment, to which Emma was invited, of course, but he was no longer sure if she would bother to come.

He wasn't imagining things. Liam had also noticed that something strange was happening with Emma. He had even tried to question Killian about it since he suspected —and he wasn't wrong — that Killian had something to do with it. But Killian wasn't in the mood to explain their current situation, especially when he didn't even know what the hell was going through Emma's head.

Killian rubbed his hand over his face and hair, feeling the frustration creep over him. Although there were still a few hours left before they had to open the bar, he was tempted to go there to play the guitar and try to disconnect for a while and get rid of that bitter feeling that had settled inside him since last Saturday.

He needed distractions and it was clear that he wasn't going to find them in the solitude of his apartment. Not even Liam was here since he had gone to the grocery store to get everything they needed for dinner tonight and Elsa was accompanying him.

The corners of his lips rose slightly at the fact that at least one of the Jones brothers seemed to be on the right track to win the heart of his potential love interest. Not that Liam had confessed anything about it, but Killian had the feeling that his role as a matchmaker wasn't necessary at all. Still, he took a mental note to question his brother in that regard. In addition, he hoped that the Christmas spirit in the form of a sprig of mistletoe could finally push them together. His lips curled up again when his eyes drifted to the strategic spot where Liam intended to place the plant.

Just when he again valued the possibility of going to the bar, the sound of someone knocking on the door caught his attention. His eyebrows pinched together in confusion, since he wasn't expecting any visits. When the person on the other side of the door knocked again with a little more insistence, he hurried to open the door.

Whoever Killian was expecting, it certainly wasn't the person he found on the threshold. His eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat as he stood with his mouth hanging open, unable to react.

"Surprise!" 

Killian blinked a couple of times and then shook his head, noting that she was still there right in front of him. That's when he finally reacted, sort of.

"Belle?"

"Well, are you going to greet me properly or are you going to remain still as if you had seen a ghost?"

A renewed energy seized him at that moment, pushing him forward, a laugh bubbling deep in his chest as he wrapped his friend in a tight hug, lifting her off the ground.

"What the hell are you doing here? We thought you couldn't make it this year!" he said, still amazed by her unexpected presence, after lowering her and loosening the hug so he could look her in the eye.

"Are you going to invite me in first, or do you prefer that we have this conversation on the threshold?" Belle replied, her lips curled into a grin, her eyes sparkling. Gods ! He had missed his friend so much.

He let out a laugh and stepped aside to let her in and then helped her take off her coat and hung it on the rack near the door while placing the travel bag she was holding in a corner of the hall.

"Does Liam know?"

"Nope." She shook her head and then she narrowed her eyes as her gaze wandered around the room. "Where is he, by the way?" Belle then turned her head in his direction, her eyes widened. "Tell me he's with Elsa."

Killian tilted his head as he frowned, giving her a skeptical look. "How the hell do you know about Liam and Elsa?"

Before answering, Belle rolled her eyes as if to imply that the answer was evident. "Isn't it obvious? Because your brother hasn't stopped talking about her lately. So there is something between those two, right? Ha! I knew it!" Belle raised a fist in triumph as her face lit up.

"Slow down, love. There's nothing official, as far as I know. For now." If Belle felt disappointed she didn't show it. On the contrary, she kept an excited expression on her face. He made a mental note of talking to Emma to inform her that they had gotten another ally. The mere thought about Emma caused his smile to weaken but he forced himself to park those thoughts for later. Belle deserved all his attention. "So tell me, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, that!" Belle paused for a moment as she bit her lower lip, a playful spark in her gaze. "Let's say we can blame Emma for my visit."

"Emma? My—" His voice trailed off as he looked away, feeling the tips of his ears begin to burn.

"Yes, your Emma." She smirked at him before continuing. "She contacted me because she wanted to give you both a surprise as a Christmas gift. And also as a way to apologize for her behavior the first time we met. I was really busy, but she insisted and insisted. She even offered to buy me the plane tickets. So I had no choice but to accept. She’s pretty persistent, that girl of yours, isn't she?"

"She's not my..." He trailed off again, uncertain about how to continue. Well, she was his everything, that's for sure, but that wasn't something he was willing to share with Belle. In response, she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look: "She is quite persistent and also stubborn," he conceded and then decided to focus on Belle's other words. So if Emma had contacted her, that meant... "When did she contact you?"

"A month or so ago?" The little flame of hope faltered for a moment. Still, he tried to maintain an impassive expression. "We've been chatting these last weeks organizing the trip. The last time I talked to her was yesterday afternoon."

"Is that so?" he asked nonchalantly, trusting that his voice would not reveal his renewed level of excitement.

Belle was too perceptive, though. She tilted her head to the side as she studied him through her narrowed eyes. "Yeah, we've been in touch all this time, even this morning we've been sharing messages. She wanted to make sure everything went well."

He tried not to smile, he really tried, but his lips acted on his own, curling up. His gesture only increased the expression of suspicion on Belle's face. "Why do I have the impression that it's a big deal as to when I've talked to her? Have you gotten into a fight or something?"

"Not exactly," he admitted reluctantly. He hadn't confessed to anyone what happened with Emma, but he wondered if it would be a good idea to share it with someone as a means to lighten the burden he was carrying. Belle seemed like his best option. "She's kinda been avoiding me since Saturday."

Belle's brows furrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest. "What have you done this time, Killian?"

"What? I haven't done anything." It was true, but Belle's expression denoted that she didn't believe him. After letting out a heavy sigh, he finally confessed. "We kissed." A huge smile blossomed on her face, but he hurried to continue. "Well, technically she started the kiss. And then she freaked out. And she's been avoiding me ever since."

"Have you tried talking to her?"

Had he tried? No, not really. Maybe because, deep down, he was afraid too. He didn't even respond, the expression on his face revealing his emotions perfectly without having to express them out loud.

Belle first rolled her eyes and shook her head, but then her features softened, her gaze searching for his as she gave him an affectionate squeeze on his arm. "You have to talk to her, Killian. Whatever is going on in her head, she still has you in her mind. She was the one who started the kiss. She was the one who contacted me because she knew that my visit would make you happy. Don't you think you should take the initiative for once? Maybe that's what she is waiting for. Maybe she needs to know that you are on the same page as her."

"Aye... I... I should talk to her."

"So, what are you waiting for? Go!"

"What? Now?" Killian wasn't entirely convinced, though he wasn't sure if what was holding him back was the uncertainty about how Emma could react, or if it was the fact of leaving Belle behind when she had just arrived. Maybe both. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse because he was a bloody coward. "I don't think it's appropriate for me to leave you here all alone. I can talk to her later."

"Oh, come on! Stop looking for excuses, Killian," she scolded him, although the expression on her face, with an amused half-smile, never disappearing from her lips, denoted she was actually excited about his current situation. "I'm not going anywhere for the next couple of days. We'll have time to catch up. Now go!"

Her bossy tone made him finally react. He approached her and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. "Thank you, love. See you later." After putting on his coat he remembered something, so he turned back to her. "About the kiss and other stuff, Liam doesn't know anything and I would prefer that he stay like that for now, until I figure things out with Emma." He preferred to clear things up with Emma without having more people involved around them.

Belle seemed to catch the hint. "My lips are sealed. I like her a lot, by the way. I'm happy for you, you deserve it." She offered him a soft smile to which he responded with a matching one before slightly bowing his head in farewell and then leaving the house. He had a mission to accomplish.

//

All the determination Killian had felt after talking to Belle went out the window the moment he found himself in front of Emma's apartment door. He felt the palms of his hands begin to sweat as his stomach tightened into knots. But he needed to have this conversation with Emma, so, after taking a deep breath, he finally knocked on the door.

His breath caught in his throat when she opened the door quickly, barely giving him time to school his features.

"What are you doing here?"

Although Emma's words were laced with a harsh tone, he knew that he had made the right decision when he observed the expression on her face, her eyes widened slightly in surprise, the flash of something resembling longing across her gaze. Killian almost smiled to himself as he checked, once again, that she was like an open book to him. No matter how she tried to hide her emotions, her deep green eyes were like a window to her soul.

"Where are your manners, Swan? Happy Christmas Eve to you too. I'm fine, thank you." He winked at her getting the desired effect, she rolled her eyes as she pressed her lips together in an attempt to curb an incipient smile. "May I come in or do you prefer to have this conversation here?"

She ignored him, although he suspected it was more a sign of the reserved pose she intended to hold. Then she stepped aside to let him in and closed the door behind them. "I'm surprised you didn't use the key."

"Well, considering that my presence here might not be welcome, I didn't want to take a chance."

"So, what are you doing here?" she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest, although this time her voice showed curiosity rather than annoyance.

She was so beautiful that morning that Killian got distracted for a moment watching her features. There was no trace of makeup on her face, her hair was in a loose braid over her right shoulder and her eyes sparkled in such a distracting way that he had to blink to force himself to look away. Big mistake, since his gaze then traveled to her lips, causing a soft hum under his skin, while his own began to tingle, craving to savor them once more. She was like a siren inflicting a spell on him that prevented him from functioning properly.

After shaking his head slightly, he looked for her gaze again before speaking. "I'd like to express my gratitude for making that surprise visit possible."

"Oh."

"Thank you so much, Emma. It means the world to me." Her cheeks acquired a soft pink hue as she averted her gaze, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He had to suppress the urge to reach out to her.

"Well, it was nothing. I did it for myself, actually, to apologize for my poor behavior the first time. Besides, I know that, for one reason or another, you haven't been able to see each other during the holidays in recent years. I felt it was time for you to be reunited again at Christmas." She shrugged one shoulder as she gave him a timid look from underneath her eyelashes. "I'm looking forward to meeting her, by the way, and rectifying the impression she must have of me."

"The feeling is mutual. I mean, she's looking forward to meeting you too. And you shouldn't worry about that first impression, believe me. She likes you a lot. Her words," he assured her, earning a soft smile on her part. "You're still coming to dinner tonight, aren't you?"

"Sure, why wouldn't..." Her voice trailed off, the pink of her cheeks turning a more intense shade of red. "Sure, I'll be there."

This was the decisive moment, the moment he had been waiting for a long time. The moment to act. "I was wondering since you have been avoiding me these past few days."

"I haven't been avoiding you. I've been busy," she defended herself, although neither her voice nor the way she looked away were convincing.

"Come on, Swan. I'm quite perceptive. You've been avoiding me. And you and I know the reason, right?" His last words sounded in a soft cadence devoid of recrimination. The last thing he wanted was to cause her to hide again behind her protective wall.

Killian watched as a whirlwind of mixed emotions crossed her face, as if she were fighting a battle inside. He could feel the tension radiating off her, until, after what seemed like hours, the turbulent expression on her face softened slightly as she took a shuddering breath. "This..." she muttered as she waved her hand between them, "... This is too much, Killian. The kiss, the feelings, the sudden memories..."

"So you remember too."

A noise escaped from her mouth, half snort, half groan. "It seems the damn kiss acted as a trigger." She trailed off, as she bit her lower lip and averted her gaze as if doubting whether or not she should continue. "I now know we kissed before. Rather, I have the notion, not the detailed memory." The frustration was evident in her voice, which, despite the circumstances, was a good sign, wasn't it? "And then I freaked out and ran away."

“I don't know if it will help you, but I also remembered that kiss in that instant.” Before continuing, he watched as her features softened and her shoulders sank slightly, shedding part of the tension. It was as if his words had brought some kind of relief to her.

"It's quite frustrating, to be honest, the idea that we don’t remember our first kiss."

Just then, the reminder of a certain poll came to his mind. "Speaking of which, I keep wondering if your unusual song choice for this week has something to do with our lost memories."

Her features twisted in a grimace before covering her face with her hands. "Shit! I'm such an idiot," she whined as she shook her head. When she finally decided to show her face again, her cheeks were flushed and she looked mortified. "I needed to know if you also remembered. It was a desperate attempt to get a reaction from you. Pretty fruitless, I must say." She looked at him in an apologetic — and quite adorable — way.

"It's a good song, Swan. Very appropriate in every way," he hurried to reassure her. "Besides, everything seems to indicate that it will be the winner. But the damn song has been repeating itself in my mind since I read your message."

"Well, you can consider it as a kind of rehearsal for this Saturday," she suggested as she raised an eyebrow in his direction, any trace of her previous embarrassment disappeared from her face. "I haven't yet decided whether I like the song or not, since the lyrics seem quite ironic, with that reference to the drinks bringing back the memories, since with us it was the opposite."

Killian wasn't at all surprised that they had had the same thought about the song. He was madly in love with her for a reason, right? Well, for several reasons actually. Still, the reference to the drinks brought an idea to his mind that, for some reason, he hadn't considered until now. But at least it could offer some explanation to what happened with their memories. "Maybe our brain blocked those memories as a kind of weird defense mechanism, using alcohol as an excuse. We might not have been prepared to face the consequences of that kiss at that time, so our mind blocked that memory or, in my case, transformed it into a kind of very pleasant dream."

Her cheeks blushed and her eyes sparkled in a special way, causing his heart to melt a little in the process. "And what makes you think that now we are prepared to face those consequences?"

"Well, love, you kissed me again. I guess that's enough indication, isn't it?"

She let out a heavy sigh, a reluctant smile blossoming on her lips. "I guess you're right."

"In addition, we can always turn what happened into something positive. Now we will always have two first kisses. The first technical one, and the first real kiss, without alcohol involved."

"If you put it that way..."

"I know you're afraid, Emma. You don't want to get hurt again." He took a tentative step in her direction. Not only did she not back down from his advance but she reached out, looking for his hand and intertwining her fingers with his, a smile of encouragement pulling at her lips and causing his heart to almost stop working. He needed to take a deep breath before continuing. "We don't need to put what's happening between us into words. I won’t even ask you to express your feelings. But, please, don't push me away again."

The look Emma gave him was so intense that he felt how it reached his very soul. After what seemed like hours lost in each other's eyes, she shortened the distance between them even more and, after offering him a tiny smile, she pressed her lips to his in a soft, brief kiss, one full of promises. "Be patient," she whispered, her warm breath caressing his lips.

"Always," he replied. "I'm not going anywhere, Emma."

"Good."

His heart pounded frantically in his chest as he reached out his other hand, cupping her cheek delicately. She tilted her head under his touch as she closed her eyes, a quiet sigh sliding between her lips. 

It was a beginning. He was aware that they still had to work not only to build their relationship, but to be totally honest with their feelings with each other. He had waited four years to reach this situation, and the wait had been worth it. He would not change what he was experiencing now for anything in the world.

When Emma opened her eyes again and he met the emerald intensity of her gaze, he had to resist the urge to kiss her senseless. Instead, he settled for circling her with his arms drawing her to him and wrapping her in a tight embrace. He would never tire of the incredible sensation of holding Emma in his arms, feeling her intoxicating scent seeping inside him making his head spin, while the warmth of her body against his caused a pleasant humming under his skin.

After placing a gentle kiss on the crown of her head, he whispered against her hair. "Do you have any plans right now?"

Emma pressed even more against his chest before answering, "I'm waiting for Elsa to come back. We have to start making dessert for dinner."

Although reluctant, Killian untangled from her, but entwined his hand with hers. "I think I have a better idea. Come with me to meet Belle."

"I'd love to, but Elsa will kill me if I leave her alone after she has also taken care of going to the grocery store."

After everything that happened, he was reluctant to separate from her. "Text her and tell her to go to my apartment instead of yours. After all, dinner is going to be there, isn't it? Besides, I guess my brother won't mind helping her at all."

"Okay… Give me ten minutes to get dressed." After turning to her bedroom, Emma seemed to remember something. She approached him again with a suggestive smile adorning her lips. "About the trip to Storybrooke. We've already talked about it on other occasions, but it never hurts to mention it again. I may not exactly remember the kiss and that we shared a bed, but I do remember everything else. It was a fantastic weekend."

"Aye, love. We should return there someday. To create new memories."

"And maybe this time we meet your twin, The Captain." Her eyes suddenly widened, while her face lit up. "We should also invite Elsa to join us; she would love the town and its inhabitants."

"And we would have to make sure we make the room reservations correctly," Killian added as he raised an eyebrow, his lips drawing a smirk, causing Emma to giggle, infecting him in the process. They shared a liberating laugh for the next few seconds, managing to drag away part of their concerns.

"Wow. I needed this moment," Emma said when the laughter subsided. "But I better get ready before it gets even later." She hadn't walked two steps before she turned and approached him again. "And above all, no alcohol involved, please. I want to remember everything." She then placed a quick peck on his lips, a subtle touch, but one full of promises. It was all he needed for now.

//

Christmas Eve Dinner-Party

Killian was elated. After his conversation with Emma, he began to feel like he was walking on clouds. That feeling, far from fading, had accompanied him throughout the day, with Emma by his side since she had barely separated from him since that morning.

As he had already imagined, Elsa did not mind at all moving the dessert preparations to his apartment. His brother gladly agreed to be her assistant in the kitchen, while Emma was relegated to help Belle and himself to finalize the decorations of the house, mistletoe included.

Belle and Emma got along well from the start. Killian still wasn't sure what had gone through Emma's mind the first time they had met and she had behaved quite impertinently with his friend. Since they hadn't discussed that subject again, he took a mental note to ask her later. Even so, Emma had rectified the situation, making this reunion possible. He couldn't feel more grateful to her.

After leaving everything ready for the dinner party, everyone left for The Kraken, where they would work for a couple of hours. A wave of pride seized him when Belle could see for the first time how the bar had changed in these four years thanks to Emma's touch, giving the place a soul of its own.

Although his friend had visited The Kraken long ago, in recent years she had been busy taking care of her sick mother while carrying out two jobs. Belle's visits to Boston had been very sporadic, with him and Liam being the ones traveling to see her on most occasions. That was why she had taken so long to meet Emma. Fortunately, her mother had managed to recover, so that opened the door to more frequent visits in the future.

After closing the bar early, all of them, Ruby and Robin and his family included, went to the brothers’ apartment to enjoy a special Christmas Eve celebration, with delicious food, relaxed conversations, and even some Christmas carols. It might have been the festive atmosphere around them causing bright smiles and sparkling eyes on all the guests. Whatever it was, the truth was that he had never felt more at peace with himself and with the rest of the world than at that precise moment, witnessing the happiness that emanated from all his loved ones.

"Did you figure out what was going on with Emma these last few days?" Killian had been so focused watching the conversation that took place in front of him between Emma and Belle that he hadn't realized that Liam had approached him until he heard his voice.

Killian offered an elusive response after casting a sidelong glance at his brother. "It was nothing important, I guess. She's fine now, isn't she?" He took a sip of his drink, wishing that Liam would not continue his line of inquiry since he wasn't willing to offer further explanations, at least not until he talked to Emma again. Killian kept looking forward on purpose, reluctant to face his brother. Liam didn't seem to catch the hint, though.

"Have you talked to her, you know, about your feelings?"

Liam had tried to keep up this kind of conversation in recent weeks, but Killian had always answered evasively. It wasn't going to be any different today. Besides, he might have found the best way to divert attention, launch a counterattack.

"What about you?"

Liam's brows furrowed in confusion. "What about me? What do you mean?"

"Do you intend to do something about your feelings towards a certain other blonde?"

The way in which Liam's features changed was almost comical. His eyes widened and his mouth hung open. Then his gaze drifted for a split second in the direction of Elsa while he scratched behind his ear. Finally, he nodded almost imperceptibly, as if he were convincing himself, before answering. "Maybe."

Killian cocked his head to one side while arching an eyebrow in appreciation. "So maybe?"

"Aye. You know the motto, a man unwilling to fight for what he wants..."

"...deserves what he gets," Killian finished for him, letting the words sink deep into him.

"Life is too short, little brother." Liam patted his shoulder affectionately before continuing, "Sometimes it's worth not thinking so much and simply acting and pursuing what we really want." After those last significant words, Liam offered him a smile of encouragement, before walking away with a clear destination.

Killian couldn't feel happier for his brother. It was as if the pieces of the puzzle that formed the life of the Jones brothers had finally begun to fit together, offering a glimpse of a promising picture. Just then, one of the pieces of that puzzle, the most precious for Killian, began to walk in his direction, a radiant smile adorning her face and a special glow in her eyes that had the ability to take his breath away.

"Can you come with me to the kitchen, Jones? I need something from there." Emma didn't even wait for an answer, but kept walking in the direction of the kitchen. He, of course, followed in her footsteps.

This woman would never stop surprising him. At the moment when the kitchen door closed behind them, she practically pounced on him, pressing her lips against his in a burning kiss, one with the ability to set him in flames inside. Any coherent thoughts vanished in his head being replaced by a single image, Emma.

He got lost in the incredible sensation of her lips on his and her body pressed against his, generating a delicious friction in the right places. They devoured each other until they had to pull apart to catch their breaths.

"It's not like I'm complaining. Obviously I'm not. But what was this about?" he muttered, his breath still agitated, his forehead resting against hers.

"Well, I've seen you talking to Liam and for some reason, I thought about the mistletoe that was hanging near you."

"You've lost me, love." His brain was certainly not working properly yet, because he didn't catch how those two aspects were related.

Emma separated a little from him while raising an eyebrow in an amused expression. Then she rolled her eyes before answering, "I'm only going to kiss you when I really want it, not because I'm forced to do it due to a stupid tradition marked by a plant."

"So there will be no kiss under the mistletoe?"

"Nope."

"Okay... No kiss under the mistletoe. I got it." He let out an exaggerated sigh pretending resignation and then his lips drew a small pout. "A pity."

"You're such an idiot," she snorted. "Besides the stupid tradition, I prefer to keep this, whatever it is, just for us. At least until we figure things out better."

Killian realized at that moment that, until now, Emma had been the one to initiate all their kisses. Maybe the time had come to rectify that. "Just to clarify, I'm also allowed to kiss you whenever I want as long as it's in private?"

Emma tilted her head while biting her lower lip in a mischievous way. "I guess you'll have to find out for yourself," she replied before finally turning away from him and opening the door again. The bloody siren had the audacity to blow a kiss in his direction before heading towards the living room, a smile of satisfaction drawn on her lips the last thing he saw before the door closed behind her.

Killian needed to take a couple of deep breaths while waiting for his body to recover before he returned to the living room as well. This woman was going to be the death of him, no doubt.

A couple of minutes later, Killian felt able to return with the rest. His gaze inevitably turned in Emma's direction. When their eyes met, she offered him a soft smile before continuing to talk to Ruby and Mulan. Killian's gaze then roamed the rest of the room until he found his brother who was talking to Elsa. When Killian realized the specific spot they were located in, he couldn't help smiling with delight as he went in search of Emma.

Luck seemed to be on his side that night, finally. Just before he approached Emma, Ruby and Mulan left her to start a new conversation with Regina, Robin's new girlfriend. Killian took advantage of that moment to shorten the distance between them to stand right in front of her. "Swan, about the mistletoe..."

"I've already told you, Jones, I'm not gonna kiss you with everyone around." She cut him off abruptly with a somewhat exasperated tone, although Killian detected a hint of playfulness and perhaps desire in her voice.

"I know, I know, a stupid tradition and whatever, but, you may change your mind now." Killian pointed his head in the direction of Liam and Elsa, a huge grin pulling at his lips.

Emma's eyes widened immediately as she gripped his arm tightly. "Holy shit! They're about to kiss!"

Killian couldn't help a quiet chuckle from escaping his throat. It seemed obvious that whatever prejudices Emma had against the mistletoe, they did not apply to Elsa or Liam.

"You were saying, Swan?" he muttered into her ear, resisting the urge to bite her lobe or slide his lips over her neck. Maybe another time…

"Shut up, Killian, don't distract me now," she mumbled as she pulled her phone from the back pocket of her pants. "Do you think they'll get mad at me if I take a picture of the moment?"

Killian barked out a laugh as he shook his head. He then turned to his brother and shouted, "Hey, Liam. Look up."

//

Liam - December 2019

"Hey, Liam. Look up."

Liam ignored his brother's words at first, too focused on his conversation with Elsa. They had been discussing the next step in relation to Killian and Emma as it seemed that they both were still reluctant to take the final step.

"Oh my god! You are under the mistletoe!" What his ears did catch was Anna's almost deafening yell. It was then that his brain finally processed what was happening.

Slowly, he looked up, finding himself, of course, with the mistletoe sprig hanging just above him. Bloody hell. His gaze then turned to Elsa. She seemed visibly nervous, her gaze traveling from the mistletoe, pausing briefly on him, and then looking at her sister with a pleading expression on her face.

"You have to kiss, guys. You know the tradition," Anna continued, squealing as she bounced and clapped excitedly.

"Don't listen to her, love. You certainly don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Liam assured her in a quiet voice as he offered a reassuring smile, even though his heart threatened to beat right out of his ribcage.

Elsa's cheeks colored a soft shade of pink, highlighting her innate beauty as she bit her lower lip in a way that was perhaps too tempting. He also felt his cheeks burn but he ignored his inner agitation, looking for Elsa's gaze to make sure she was alright.

Her lips curled up as she shrugged. "It's just a kiss, isn't it?" She moved closer to him, causing his heart to beat frantically as the butterflies in his stomach began to flutter. Before shortening the distance completely, her eyes widened slightly. "You want this too, don't you?"

"Aye, since it's a tradition..." he muttered while his eyes bored into hers. The corners of her lips rose slightly before standing on tiptoe and pressing her lips against his own. It was a brief kiss, just a gentle brush, but enough for him to feel the softness of her lips and the warmth of her breath, causing something to stir inside him while everything around him seemed to fade.

Only when Elsa pulled apart was Liam able to recover his senses. Ignoring the cheering around them, he devoted himself to observing her features, finding no trace of regret, but rather an expression of contentment while the flash of something similar to hope crossed her gaze.

"We're definitely the worst matchmakers ever. Not only do we not get them to kiss, but we fall into our own trap. We are idiots."

Liam couldn't prevent a liberating laugh from escaping from his mouth, getting to infect Elsa in the process. "I’m not complaining at all, love," he managed to assure her once the laughter subsided as he placed an arm on her shoulders. "But we better think of another plan for these two stubborn ones."

"Hey lovebirds, stop whispering and share with the rest." Liam was tempted to ignore Emma's words and remain in his own bubble with Elsa, but he certainly did not enjoy being the center of attention. So, after letting out a heavy sigh, he began to walk away from the mistletoe, keeping his arm around Elsa's shoulders, gently pushing her to accompany him.

"Well, taking advantage of everyone's attention, I'd like to announce something." All eyes in the room suddenly turned to Anna, while Liam noticed how Elsa tensed beside him. Anna's eyes narrowed before she let out a snort. "No, it's not what you're thinking. I'm not pregnant, nor are we getting married. Yet."

"Nor have I proposed to her. Yet," Kristoff added as he winked at his girlfriend.

"What I wanted to announce is that Kris and I have gotten an early Christmas gift and we will also be able to share it with some of you." Anna made a deliberate pause as if she wanted to create tension in the atmosphere.

"Come on, Anna, spit it out." 

Anna frowned as she raised a finger in warning in Emma's direction. "Patience is not one of your best virtues, Emma. I guess Killian agrees with me." Anna directed a conspiratorial glance towards Killian who responded by nodding, earning a nudge from Emma. "Anyway, as I was saying before the interruption... We... are going to spend New Year's Eve in a cabin in the woods. And best of all, there is room for six people, isn't it wonderful?"

"What Anna means is that both the brothers Jones and Elsa and Emma, are invited to join us," Kristoff explained. "I'm afraid there's no room for anyone else." He gave an apologetic look in the direction of both Ruby and Robin.

Liam's excitement lasted exactly five seconds, the time he needed to try to add that event to his mental schedule and realize that he would not be able to attend. A sense of disappointment took hold of him, because the idea of further developing the incipient relationship with Elsa in a different environment was too appealing. But he could not ignore his responsibilities.

"Thank you so much for the offer guys, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. We're throwing a New Year's Eve party at The Kraken."

"But having a party at The Kraken doesn't necessarily mean you have to attend, right? I mean, you're the boss, you can do whatever you want!" Anna insisted, looking at the others in search of agreement.

She was somehow right. He might feel obligated to stay but that didn't mean Emma and Killian had to decline the invitation too. Just when he was about to make the proposal, Ruby came forward.

"Anna has a point. In fact, I think you three should go. Mulan will be with me that night. She has experience serving drinks, so she will be very helpful." Ruby looked at her girlfriend who offered her a smile while nodding in agreement.

"And you have already given me all this week off to enjoy the holidays with my family, so I will be there too." Liam was about to reply, but Robin kept talking. "Besides, I literally live three floors above the bar and Regina will be there taking care of Roland. I can take small breaks during my shift to see them.”

"I appreciate your support guys, but there will be a lot of work since we estimate that public attendance will be high. I don't think it's fair to load you with more work than necessary, honestly."

"You could hire more temporary bartenders. You have a week ahead to get everything organized." This time it was Belle who made the suggestion, clearly interested in sending him to that cabin in the woods. Yes, he could afford to hire some waiters, but still…

A deep exhale escaped between his lips, while he felt all eyes on him. He wanted to accept the invitation so badly, not only because that would allow him to spend more time with Elsa, but because it would also be the perfect excuse for both Killian and Emma to continue exploring their relationship outside their usual environment and because he had worked hard during the year and deserved a break.

He cast a sidelong glance at Elsa, who was still by his side. She was looking at her sister with whom she seemed to be having a silent conversation. His gaze then shifted to Emma and Killian who were also sharing furtive glances. It was as if everyone was waiting expectantly for him to make a final decision.

"What do you think, Emma?" Liam had learned to trust Emma's instincts as far as business was concerned, so he decided that if she gave her approval he would cease to be opposed to the idea.

Emma cast a last sidelong glance at Killian before answering. "I have a couple of people in mind who could help. I think there will be no problem at all. Ruby and Robin will have everything under control." To reaffirm her words, she quietly nodded her head, her lips curled upward. "It will only be one night. It will be fine."

His decision seemed obvious. If everyone agreed, who was he to refuse the possibility to spend a couple of days off with his loved ones? "Well, guys, if you put it that way I will have no choice but to accept." Everyone broke into applause but he ignored them, looking for Elsa's gaze instead. The radiant smile she offered him was enough to convince himself that he had made the right decision.

//

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think :)

Just three chapters to go... What might happen when you put six people together in a cabin to celebrate New Year with all those simmering feelings around them?

[fallenhunter851]

Recorded Messages

I’ve recently completed the Daily Heroic Challenge where you find Cayde’s hidden caches. And all I want to say is: Thank you Bungie for bringing tears to my eyes for the first time since D2 came out.

Enjoy!

Warnings: None

Cayde knew that he would die one day. He just wasn’t sure when or how.

Part of taking on the role of Hunter Vanguard.

No matter what, you ended up dead.

No memory wipes.

No revives.

No more Light.

Cayde wasn’t looking forward to that day.

Would it be painful or gentle? Would it be quick or slow? Would it be among friends and family or among his enemies?

He wasn’t sure, but he wanted to leave a message to those that would find his stashes… to his potential killers.

Cayde stared at the little voice recorder currently sitting on the small table in his living room. Hands curled under his chin, he let out a sigh and let his head hang a little. He knew he needed to do this, but... but this was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

Cayde decided to start with Eris Morn’s message. They were close enough to call each other friends and have each other’s back, both agreeing that a Hunter’s place wasn’t in the Tower, but out in the Wilds. But most of the time, the two didn’t really get along. Bickering on most occasions.

‘Children, the both of you.’ He remembers Ikora telling both of them one day before the fall of the Tower to Ghaul. Cayde let out a breathy chuckle and clicked the button on the side of the voice recorder.

“This one’s for Eris Morn. Ahem. If you’re listening to this, congrats on killing me! I assume you… became a Hive Death God and fed me to your worm cult.” Cayde paused what he was saying to let out a shudder at the mental image his mind created for him, before letting out a small breath and carrying on with the recording.

“That, or you just finally got sick of me. Coincidentally, if you didn’t kill me and still somehow hear this… I’m sorry for stealing your ship. And, oh, pretty much every other interaction we ever had. But to be clear- if you DID kill me, I do NOT apologise, and I will consider all my actions 100% justified.

Either way, feel free to put your rock on my maps now.

I don’t need’em anymore.”

One down. Nine to go.

“This one’s for that armless coward Taniks the Scarred. If you’re listening to this… you killed me. But I bet I took a big chunk out of your ugly husk with me.

Guess Andal Brask wasn’t enough for you, huh? You wanted another Hunter Vanguard for your sick collection? I got my fair share of regrets, sure… but not putting a bullet in you has gotta rank in the top three.

Won’t be long before a better Guardian than me puts you in your place.

Just wish I could be there to see it.” A sour taste was left in Cayde’s mouth at the mention of Taniks, but a more foul and upsetting taste was left after mentioning Andal’s name. He hadn’t talked about Andal in centuries, and the last person he did was living up near the Iron Temple, and he wasn’t coming down anytime soon.

Two down. Eight to go.

The first time Cayde had met The Drifter, it was a cold rainy day near the Annex, and he had just finished a round on the Tower when he had spotted him hiding in the shadows of a back alley. They didn’t talk, just nodded to each other and carried on with their days respectively. And something akin to mutual understanding began.

“This one’s for the fellow calls himself The Drifter. You did warn me running with you would put a target on my back. Guess I’m in good company though, huh? After all, never had any fun without a little risk. That’s the whole idea with the operation you’re putting together, ain’t it? MY idea by the way.

Had it, like, a million years ago, back when you were still handsome.” Cayde let out a small chuckle at that, and took a small sip of the water that he had next to the recorder. An Exo may never get a dry throat, but the feeling and sensation is there.

“So, uh, you’re welcome. You know, getting that up and running means coming out of hiding- giving you-know-who another shot at you. Hope I was around to see THAT showdown. Personally, my money was on the guy with the Golden Gun. But hey, what do I know? I’m dead.”

Three down. Seven to go.

“Petra… if you’re listening… you killed me. Maybe the Sovs, in all their mysterious wisdom, decided they were sick of me? If the Queen ordered the hit, I guess I understand. You’re a real glutton for chivalry. But if it was Uldren, I’m pissed. Just thinking about that peacock gives me a headache. But I’m betting my death was another case of your famous collateral damage. ‘Cause you’re a real do-gooder. Seriously, it’s annoying- but good deeds never go unpunished when you’re around. You just… You got a blast radius P.V. Well, it was… fun while it lasted.

Oh, and, uh, tell ‘Paladin Oran’: If the sun over Nessus escapes nebula cycle, evac labor after dawn, under solstice. You got that P.V.?”

Four down. Six to go.

Cayde grumbled at the thought of this message, but it needed to be recorded. So he took a deep breath, sighed, kept his voice low and even, then let a hardened gaze fall over his face.

“This one’s for the minds behind the Deep Stone Crypt. You think just ‘cause you made me, you can unmake me? Hey, I understand. I were you, I wouldn’t want people knowing what I did either. Guess you better hope I didn’t tell anyone about the Crypt. Or about the, uh, what was it? Oh yeah... Long Slow Whisper. ‘Cause if I did, that would be real bad for you, huh? I may be dead, but I guarantee you ain’t hear the last of me.”

Only five left.

“Here’s one for Suruya Hawthorne. You know, when I told my Ghost I’d be making one of these for you, she laughed. I didn’t have to tell you that. Just wanted to make you feel bad.

In my defense, if you’re listening to this, you did kill me. I mean, if it was a fair fight, mano a mano, I'd win, no question. But I can see you planning out some convoluted, meticulous trap. Some would call that Paranoia. Me? I call it ‘being a Hunter’.

So, here’s your next Hunter lesson: Looking after your own.

Speaking of which: Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of Colonel! Now, she only eats sesame seeds muesli and drinks purified spring water with a sprig of parsley. Play nice you two!” Cayde let out a fond chuckle at that, thinking of how attached he had gotten with the chicken the first time when he had gone to the Farm after leaving Nessus.

Four left.

Thinking of who to address this audio log to, Cayde looked around his apartment, taking in the small treasures that he had collected over the years. He felt himself getting slowly choked up as he neared the end of the logs for his hidden caches.

He had to make these last few more memorable.

“This one’s for any Hunter who kills me. Best guess: Marcus Ren? You realise you get my stuff now? ALL my stuff. INCLUDING the Hunter Vanguard gig. Yeah, congrat-u-lations, dummy. That’s what we call a Vanguard Dare. Sucks, doesn’t it? OK, brace yourself for some advice, hotshot.

One, know your people. Like, my Nessus Scout, Quantis Rhee. I like to call her about once a moon, else she gets a little too much Night, not enough Stalker, you know?” Cayde made a mental note to call Rhee after he had finished these logs. Thank her for everything she has done.

“Two, keep your weapons sharp. Your jobs’ to watch everyone’s back, which means no one’s watching yours but you. And three, start thinking about what you want to do for your successor’s Vanguard Dare. ‘Cause trust me, kid- this gig will kill ya.”

Three left. And Cayde knew that these three would be the absolute hardest messages he would ever have to record for anyone to hear.

“Hahaha! Ha! Sorry, sorry! I’m just… I’m imagining how awkward you must look right now. Ha. Ahem. Ahem! OK. Zavala. So, I’m dead. You killed me. My stuff is yours. No more working me over at Chess. No more getting worked over at poker. For real though, you know that if you needed to kill me for ‘the good of the City’ or whatever, I totally understand.

No hard feelings. Nada.

You can put this voice recording away and go on with your life.

Now, if you DID have some kind of lingering guilt or something… that would be rough. ‘Cause you and I both know you’d have me yapping in your ear for the rest of your days. You wouldn’t be able to help yourself.

Two left, He felt his resolve slipping.

“Hi Ikora. So you know I’m making a bunch of these, right? I probably told you. I always gotta have the last word, and I’m gonna be prepared for every possibility. But to tell the truth? This one’s the easiest to make.” Cayde had to take a pause and breathe out, he knew that this was a lie- but it was the only way to make it easier for himself to record these.

“So as long as we’re being honest, I could never tell if you really liked me that much. But, uh… well, if you did hate me, the feeling was NOT mutual. In fact- yeah, I’ll say it- don’t even mind if you killed me. I figure if we threw down… first off, no one can blame me for losing. And… I know you’d be in the right. So… thanks? I guess? You were a… a good friend. Better than a guy like me could hope for, anyway.

So yeah, thanks Ikora. For everything.”

One left.

Cayde couldn’t do it. Not tonight or any time soon for that matter. He broke down into tears. Sundance materialised next to him and allowed Cayde to pull her tight to his chest in any form of comfort as the night gave way to sunlight.

As Cayde walked over to his usual space, he saw Setara and Echo standing next to Amanda talking about Traveller knows what. Turning his walk into a jog, he sped over to the trio and pulled both Setara and Echo into a tight hug, burying himself between them as he whispered his blessings. Both Guardians were shocked by this and slowly wrapped their arms around their Vanguard, and when they questioned why Cayde was holding onto them like they would disappear when he let go, he simply shook his head and just held them tighter.

“This one’s for the strong, silent type. You. Congratulations, buddy.

I mean that. Always knew you’d outdo me some day. And if that means you had to do me in, too… eh, you saved my life on Nessus, so I owed it to you anyway.

Take care of the Ace of Spades, will ya? I’m not just talking about the maintenance; Banshee can help you with all that. I mean, take care of Ace. Use it well.

Oh, hey, and… if you found any of those papers from my earlier… eh… deployments? Burn ‘em. Don’t want people poking through the lives of Caydes 0 through 5.

So just... put it all behind you, OK?

Every story has an end.

This is mine.”